


Step By Step (We All Fall Down)

by FanMomMer



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanMomMer/pseuds/FanMomMer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the summer between seasons two and three, Oliver and Felicity are attempting to navigate their new status post-fake but not actually fake I love you's, and a kiss that may or may not have meant everything. Or: What would have been different for Oliver and Felicity if that summer had been about both of them truly coming to terms with what they meant to each other. Basically - Felicity decides to live her life, and Oliver realizes that her life doesn’t necessarily include him as much as he may want. How he reacts, and how Felicity responds to his actions, shape the future of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a solo multi-chapter fic. For a while I’ve been intrigued by the idea of what would have been different if the deleted kiss from 2x23 had actually been canon. What would have changed with Oliver and Felicity? How would their relationship have progressed differently from what we saw on the show. So, this is AU after 2x23, and picks up immediately following the final scene of the season two finale. 
> 
> Thank you thank you to the incomparable dettiot and my soul sister callistawolf for being my constant source of reassurance, for answering all my inane questions, and for holding my hand every step of the way. 
> 
> The length of the prologue is not indicative of the length of upcoming chapters - they will be longer, I promise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the flight back to Starling after dropping Slade on Lian Yu, both Oliver and Felicity mull over the events of Unthinkable, their kiss, subsequent conversation, and where they go from here. When their answers to that question vary greatly, and Felicity responds to Oliver’s non-answer about his feelings differently than she has in the past, the duo’s relationship is in for some difficult, but necessary, changes.

The roar of the plane’s engine lulled Felicity into an almost-doze: not quite sleeping, but not really awake either. Her mind wandered as she watched the clouds soar by through the window of the ARGUS jet, and wished for the umpteenth time that her brain could just stop for a few minutes and allow her to get some sleep. Instead, her mind kept going over the events of the past couple days. Over, and over, and over.

_So, he took the wrong woman._

_I love you. Do you understand?_

_We both did._

She sighed, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back against the leather of the plush seat she was occupying. She was consciously and studiously **not** looking across the aisle to where Oliver was sitting, because she knew if she did - and if she found him looking at her, as she suspected he was doing - she would say things she wasn’t ready to say. Possibly in her Loud Voice.

He had kissed her. She could still feel the press of his lips against hers, the leather of his jacket under her palm; she could hear the rush of breath that had left him as she fused her mouth to his, closing the miniscule gap he had left between them when he initiated the kiss, forever altering their relationship. She had thought about kissing him in the past, of course. Dreamed about it; fantasized. But never in her mind had their first kiss been in front of hidden cameras, for the benefit of convincing a madman that _she_ was Oliver’s lady love, so that Slade would then kidnap her and allow her the opportunity to stick him with a needle. And yet, despite the circumstances, she had felt... _everything._ It had been everything, that kiss. That one kiss was now seared in her mind; that kind of emotion, that kind of intimacy and desire and warmth and _love_ could not be faked. It hadn’t been fake. She was certain of it. But what did that _mean?_ Was it just one kiss, a get-it-out-of-his-system kind of thing? A we-may-die-and-at-least-we’ll-have-this kiss situation? And did it even matter what it meant, if Oliver was unwilling to address it?

All of this led to the bottom line: Felicity was angry. She had tried, so hard, not to be. She had tried to accept Oliver’s non-response to her offering him an out on Lian Yu. Even before that, she had tried to accept that he had knowingly and deliberately used her feelings for him _(And his feelings for her? Maybe? That was the million dollar question)_ to fool Slade. She had even tried to accept that the kiss had been necessary to sell the lie. _(Was it a lie, though?)_ But in the end, despite her best efforts, and really she had **tried** , Felicity was unable to avoid it any longer. She was angry.

The problem, or, well, one of the problems at least, was that Felicity didn’t know who she was angry at. Oh, she knew Oliver held a lot of the blame. She knew he deserved her anger. But really - shouldn’t she be more angry at herself? For going along with it….for _always_ going along with him. For not calling him on it his only response to her question was “we both did”. For basically, going on two years now, revolving her entire life around what Oliver Queen asked. No. Not even asked. What Oliver Queen demanded of her.

What had started as a well-intentioned attempt to help find Walter - where she had promised herself that she would hold strong in her morals and she would not, under any circumstances, get in over her head or worse, fall for Oliver Queen - had somehow spiraled and snowballed into an entirely different monster. She had known she was in trouble when she had stood toe to toe with the man while the city was about to literally collapse around them and uttered “if you stay, I stay.” But she hadn’t truly realized _just how much_ trouble she was in until she had found herself strapped to Dig, hurtling out of the sky towards what she had been sure at the time was certain death on impact. And then, as if those two times weren’t enough to prove it to herself, she had agreed to be his executive assistant. After he had gone behind her back to “promote” her, and despite her MIT education, for which she had worked very, _very_ hard. And of course, in spite of the fact that every single one of her old colleagues, not to mention the rest of the employees at QC, were certain she had gotten the job on her knees (and/or on her back.)

So, yeah. Felicity wasn’t an idiot. She was very well aware that she had broken her promise to herself, and had both gotten in over her head….and fallen for Oliver Queen. And now, here she sat, on the other side of the most terrifying few days of her life, and all she knew was that she couldn’t keep going like this. Her heart couldn’t take it.

Sighing again, Felicity opened her eyes and allowed herself a glance across the aisle. As she had suspected, Oliver was watching her. His brow was furrowed but other than that his face was unreadable. She hated that, because she prided herself on being able to read him. When her eyes met his, he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly, in what she knew was his silent way of asking if she was okay. She knew what he was waiting for, what he wanted and expected from her. He expected a smile, a nod, some reassurance that all was right with her and between them. But this time she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t, in this moment, shore up the walls around her heart enough to give Oliver the response he so desired.

For so long she had allowed her life to revolve around Oliver Queen. What he needed from her, what he wanted from her, what she could do to support him. She hadn’t realized until she sat on this plane and really reflected on the last almost two years of her life just how much of her was wrapped up in _him._ She loved Oliver. She was _in love_ with Oliver. And she would support him and stand by him and help him with everything she had in her. But She had spent too long hoping for maybes and what ifs that might never happen. She couldn't keep giving him everything and getting only snippets of what could be. She was no longer willing to let him own her heart. Not if he wasn’t willing, or able, or ready, to give her his in return.

With a hard shake of her head, Felicity turned away from Oliver, effectively showing him that no, sorry, everything was not okay. Because Felicity had just decided that it was high time for her to move on, and discover who Felicity Smoak was...without Oliver Queen.

***

As Felicity shook her head and turned away from him, very clearly shutting him out, Oliver felt the tension that had started to ease from his body slam right back into him. He had spent the better part of the flight willing her to look at him; to smile, or tilt her head...some sort of signal that she was okay. That _they_ were okay. And now she had done the exact opposite.

Their conversation on the beach had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He knew what she was doing, what she was looking for from him. And he just...couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give her the confirmation she wanted - in either direction. He couldn’t tell her that he had meant it, but for some reason he also couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he hadn’t. And that made him feel like an asshole. Why couldn’t he do the right thing and let her go?

It hadn’t escaped him that despite the absolute insanity of the past few days - months, even - the only thing he could focus on and think about was Felicity. His mother was dead, he had just locked away a man he once considered a friend, Thea was who knows where….and yet. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her. Her face when he had said those words in the mansion, and then the understanding, and sorrow, in her eyes when he had slipped her the syringe. It made his stomach clench and his heart ache. And it also made him want to make it better - make that look that seemed to now be permanently present when their eyes met go away. He wanted to grab her face and kiss her and say _fuck it_ to everything else.

That was another thing that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Kissing her hadn’t been a conscious decision. But he had seen that look in her eyes when he had told her he loved her - the hope that had flashed across her very expressive face - and he had just acted on instinct. For the first time in a long time he had made an uncalculated move, and had just acted based on _feeling_. And **not** kissing her would have felt....wrong. As wrong as kissing her had felt right. The second their lips had touched he had known beyond any shadow of a doubt (if he was honest with himself he had known long before that, but the kiss had made it absolutely, abundantly, clear.) He was in love with her.

So why couldn’t he tell her? Why couldn’t he have corrected her before she had even finished that ridiculous thought?

_Talk about unthinkable. You and me, I mean._

No. The unthinkable thing was that she still thought that. That she could doubt, at all, how perfect she was for him. _Too_ perfect. Too good. She deserved light and happiness and easy. All the things he was not. If he was a better man he would have agreed with her statement - let her think he felt nothing beyond friendship and gratitude for her and her role in his mission. Let her move on so that she could find someone who could give her everything he couldn’t.

But he wasn’t a better man. He was a selfish man. So he had stayed silent, only responding with ambiguity and vagueness. And now that he suspected she wasn’t going to accept that the way she had in the past, he was forced to ask himself why.

He had told her months ago, after Russia - after the first time he had seen that disappointment and hurt in her eyes when she had caught Isabel leaving his room - that he couldn’t be with someone he could really care about. He had known even then that it was at least somewhat of a cop out. He wasn’t ready to face what a relationship with Felicity would mean. The depth of emotion between them...it scared him. He knew that it would be easy, so easy, to let himself get totally caught up in her. To allow her to become his _everything_. And that scared him. He hurt people he loved. He lost people he loved. He couldn’t bear to hurt her. And he _definitely_ couldn’t bear to lose her.

But he still held onto that tiny sliver of hope. Of maybe, of someday. _Maybe someday_ he could be the man she deserved. _Maybe someday_ he could allow himself to have that kind of relationship. That kind of absolute - where the other person was the center of your world. Because that was what it would be with her. He could already feel it pushing at the edges of his heart, no matter how hard he tried not to. So despite knowing that he couldn’t tell her he had meant it, not now, he also couldn’t tell her the opposite. He was being selfish...hoping that she would wait. But she had so far. Why was this time different? He had thought...he had hoped that it wasn’t. That after all was said and done and they had won and locked Slade up and were going home...he had hoped that things would go back to normal. That he could have her without really _having_ her.

But then she had given him that chance to provide her with answers, to allow her some certainty either way. And he hadn’t taken it. He had held tightly to precedent, believing that she would simply absorb his stubbornness with her usual quiet grace and not allow it to affect them. Only, she hadn’t. He had realized something was different in the way she had smiled at him as she ended their conversation. And he had realized truly _how_ different when she had turned away from him just now. She wasn’t going to accept this the way she had everything else. Something had shifted.

So what did that mean?

***

The plane touched down in Starling late into the night. Oliver took note of the way Felicity made sure that Dig was between them at all times as they disembarked. She kept her eyes firmly on everything and anything other than him, taking Dig’s offered hand to help her down the jet’s stairs onto the tarmac, and murmuring quietly with the other man about how she planned to get home. She hadn’t looked at or spoken to Oliver since turning away from him hours earlier, and the pit in the center of his stomach had grown larger and tighter as the hours passed. He was in unfamiliar territory, receiving this silent, cold treatment from her. And he had no idea how to fix it.

He stood in the center of the tarmac as Dig approached him, but his eyes were over his friend’s shoulder, watching Felicity as she hung back and checked her phone.

“So,” his partner started as he reached Oliver’s side. “I’m going to give Felicity a ride home. There’s another car waiting to take you...where are you going to go?”

Oliver sighed and reached one hand up to rub the back of his neck, before he finally moved his gaze from Felicity to Diggle. He was met with sympathy, understanding, and maybe just a hint of “I told you so” in the other man’s eyes. Throwing him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Oliver responded.

“I’ll head to the Foundry for now. I can figure it out from there.” Dig was silent for a moment before he nodded, probably realizing that arguing was futile, and likely too tired to try. Oliver offered his hand and his friend shook it. “Thank you, John. For everything.” He allowed his eyes to drift to Felicity once more, and he couldn’t help the disappointment that surged within him when he found her still refusing to meet his gaze. He sighed and looked back at Dig. “Take care of her.” Dig simply nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, before hoisting his bag up and walking back to Felicity.

Oliver watched as the two climbed into one of the waiting cars, closing the doors before driving off into the night. She hadn’t even looked at him. He felt like his heart was sinking into his stomach. Things had changed, alright. And he was absolutely sure he wasn’t going to like just how much.

***


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been two weeks since Felicity, Oliver and Diggle returned from locking Slade up on Lian Yu. Felicity has made good on her promise to herself to move on, and to no longer allow her life to be completely wrapped up in Oliver’s. The problem is - she’s discovering that somehow over the past few years she’s lost sight of pretty much anything that isn’t Oliver and/or mission related. So, what’s a girl to do? Making some new(ish) friends, signing up for online dating, and doing her best to avoid the way Oliver is looking at her are keeping her pretty busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this fic has been amazing! I’m so humbled and grateful! A few people have asked so I guess I forgot to mention: updates will be every Wednesday. I have already drafted up to chapter four, and I expect it to be about 7-9 chapters long. 
> 
> This chapter, and likely the next as well, are a bit light on the actual Oliver/Felicity interaction. Their thoughts are never far from the other, and both of them have the opportunity to discuss what’s been going on between them with other people, but their actual scenes together are somewhat limited. This will definitely change as the story unfolds. I promise. 
> 
> As always, thank you thank you to the inimitable dettiot, and the fabulous callistawolf, for reading and commenting and cheerleading.

Felicity was pretty proud of herself. She really was. In the two weeks since they had returned from Lian Yu, she had managed to slowly start to extricate herself from how completely and totally wrapped up in Oliver’s web she used to be. She was engaging in non-Arrow related activities, spending less time at the Foundry (which was thankfully aided by the slow crime rate in Starling following the blowout that was Slade’s attack), and focusing on building friendships.

Admittedly, Felicity had spent the first week giving Oliver the silent treatment. She just...didn’t talk to him at all. She avoided eye contact and worked very hard to not be alone with him. Ever. She spent as little time in the Foundry as possible, and the only times she engaged with him directly was when it was absolutely necessary, over the coms. She knew it was childish and petty, but she _wanted_ him to know she was upset. Some small part of her hoped that if he realized how mad and hurt she was, he would change his mind. She was foolishly holding out for a big romantic declaration of how wrong he had been to push her away instead of pull her close: like something out of a movie.

But she had realized after a few days that it wasn’t coming. Oliver was responding to her behavior and treatment with his own brand of resigned acceptance. He hadn’t tried to talk to her about anything other than Arrow business, aside from a couple attempts in the first day or so, which she had steadfastly refused to acknowledge. She caught him looking at her often though, and he wasn’t exactly quick to look away when their eyes met; she was usually the one breaking her gaze first. The only outward sign that anything was amiss with him at all in regards to her was the kicked puppy expression he now constantly wore when she was around. But really, that was his own fault, in Felicity’s opinion.

When she had come to terms with the likelihood of a romantic declaration of love from Oliver being somewhere around a snowball’s chance in hell, Felicity had decided to be a mature, adult person about the situation. While she wasn’t looking for things to go back to the way they had been between the two of them B.K. (Before the Kiss), she did accept that she couldn’t ignore him forever. So she had decided to maintain a professional, polite, courteous relationship, with clear lines and boundaries. She allowed herself to engage in an appropriate amount of superficial chit chat and small talk, and she didn’t _always_ immediately leave the room when he entered. But for the sake of her heart (and a little bit to remind Oliver of what he was missing) she worked hard to maintain distance, and focus on other things in her life. Like friendships.

That bit had actually been a little difficult to focus on, because it hadn’t taken long after she had moved to her position as Oliver’s executive assistant for her to realize that the small group of women she had considered friends had all but abandoned her. Felicity wasn’t exactly eager to mend those fences, because who needed friends like that? So she was forced to sort of start from scratch. Thankfully, she knew just what to do, and she had approached John a few evenings ago in the Arrow cave _(too bad, Oliver,_ she thought, _it was officially being referred to as the Arrow cave now._ )

“Sooo…” Felicity had started, drawing out the word as she walked over to where Dig was unwrapping his hands following a training session with Oliver. The latter was in the shower, mercifully leaving Felicity and Dig alone for the time being. She waited until her friend paused and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow in encouragement for her to continue. “I was thinking the other day that I could really use a girl’s night, you know?” Dig flashed her a quick smile.

“Felicity, you can take an evening off any time you want, you know that,” he replied gently. Felicity nodded quickly.

“Oh, I know. I know. I just -” she bit her lip and looked down for a second, steeling herself for the somewhat embarrassing confession she was about to make. “I just...don’t really have anyone to spend a girl’s night _with_.” Thankfully, miraculously, Dig was a smart man, who knew Felicity well enough to anticipate where she was going with this.

“You know,” he started, finishing with his unwrapping and moving to stand, reaching to grab his phone from where it lay on the med table. “Lyla was just lamenting the other day how she doesn’t have many female friends to do...girly things with. I bet she’d love to get together for a girl’s night.” He started typing into his phone, glancing up at her quickly. Felicity flashed Dig a grateful smile and nodded again.

“That would be...great. Fantastic. Perfect. Thank you, John.”

“Don’t thank me. I think it’s a great, no - fantastic, no - _perfect_ idea,” he answered cheekily, smirking a little. “I’ll text her your number and you guys can set something up.” Felicity nodded again, before she heard the sound of the shower shutting off. Wanting to leave before Oliver emerged, she thanked Dig one more time and gathered her things quickly, before heading to her car.

Lyla had in fact texted Felicity later that same evening, and they had made plans to get together. So Felicity was now on her way to the Diggle apartment, pizza and wine in hand (Lyla had insisted she bring wine for herself, despite the other woman not being able to drink it in her current, with-child state.) Felicity was a bit nervous...this almost felt like a blind date. Except that, at the very least, she wasn’t going in completely blind. She _knew_ Lyla. Even if the two women weren’t close ( _yet, weren’t close yet)_ , they had a lot in common. And they both adored Dig, albeit in different ways. So, yeah. The nervousness felt a bit silly to Felicity. But there it was, nonetheless.

As she approached the building where John and Lyla’s apartment was, she found a spot near the entrance and put her car in park. Taking a deep breath, Felicity reminded herself that this was a good thing. This was her, moving on. Establishing relationships for herself that had nothing to do with Oliver. She _needed_ a female friend, someone she could talk to about things that Dig and Roy certainly didn’t want to hear about - no matter how nice they were to her. And who better for the role of new BFF if not Lyla Michaels? The older woman knew all about Felicity’s evening activities, knew the people closest to Felicity. With Lyla, Felicity didn’t have to hide anything. And in the brief interactions they’d had, Felicity had liked the other woman. She was smart and no nonsense, but with a dry sense of humor that Felicity appreciated. This would be fun.

With a quick look in her rearview mirror to check her lipstick and make sure she didn’t have food in her teeth, Felicity exited her car and made her way to the door of the building. She buzzed up to the apartment, and then trekked up the stairs, wincing as she remembered the last time she had made the climb to talk to John about his fight with Oliver.

 _No, Felicity._ She thought to herself. _None of that tonight. No Oliver. This is girl’s night. Oliver Queen has no place here._

She reached the Diggle/Michaels’ floor and shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of Oliver. She took a moment to catch her breath (that many stairs while carrying pizza and wine was _not_ easy) and then knocked on their apartment door. It swung open a second later, as if Lyla had been waiting right behind it.

“Hey, Felicity. Welcome!” The ARGUS agent was dressed casually, in loose shorts and a tank top that hid the small bump Felicity knew she was sporting. It made Felicity feel a tad overdressed in her bright yellow and pink sundress, but as Lyla smiled at her and reached to take the pizza out of her hands, Felicity pushed the thought from her head and found herself smiling back.

“Hi! Thank you again so much for having me. This is really nice, I mean, it’s been _forever_ since I’ve had a night with just a girlfriend. Not girlfriend like, _romantically…”_ Felicity paused and took a breath, and noticed Lyla watching her, amusement clear on her face. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I babble a bit when I’m nervous.”

She stepped through the door and allowed Lyla to close it behind her. Following Lyla into the kitchen, Felicity took note of the feminine touches that had been added to the apartment since her last visit. The place had more color, little accents like throw pillows, pictures in frames, and some new artwork. It felt homey and comfortable, and Felicity felt a sense of wonder and a wave of happiness for John. He was such a good man, and a great friend, and Felicity was glad that he had found his own happiness with Lyla. She wondered if she would ever find that. That person who makes a house a home. Without warning, her mind flashed on an image of Oliver’s face in the mansion, telling her he loved her.

“So!” Felicity exclaimed brightly, willing Oliver out of her head. “You look fantastic! How are you feeling? I can’t even imagine how annoying all those stairs are for you. I mean, I can barely handle them on a normal day...they must be a real bitch when pregnant.” Lyla let out a real laugh at that, not bothering to hide her amusement with Felicity.

“Oh, such a bitch. I can’t even tell you,” she agreed through her laughter, handing Felicity a corkscrew for the wine. “But try explaining that to a man as ridiculously in shape as John,” she complained good-naturedly, while reaching for plates for the pizza. She placed two slices on each plate and started to lead the way to the living room.

“I know, right? Guys like that...they could do these stairs 15 times while carrying us and not break a sweat,” Felicity replied as she followed, open bottle of wine and a red plastic cup from the counter in hand. The women sat down on the sofa, settling in with pizza and wine for Felicity, sparkling grape juice for Lyla. Lyla held her cup out towards Felicity, and Felicity tapped hers against it.

“Men,” Lyla toasted with an over dramatic sigh and a smile.

“Men!” Felicity repeated, smiling back. Oh yeah, this night was going to be just fine. 

***

An hour later, Felicity was a little bit tipsy, and her ab muscles hurt from laughing so much. At some point she had kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up under her, turning to face Lyla, who was leaning back against the arm of the sofa with her legs bent and her feet resting on the middle cushion between the two women. They had spent the past hour sharing stories about Dig, bad dates, and embarrassing moments, and there had been lots of laughter and too much food. It was a perfect girl’s night, and Felicity felt totally comfortable hanging out with Lyla. 

As their laughter died down, Felicity watched Lyla take a sip of her juice and look at her appraisingly over the cup. She had a feeling she knew what the other woman was about to say. 

“So,” Lyla started lightly, furthering Felicity’s suspicions as to where this conversation was headed, “how’s Oliver?”

Felicity sighed, looking away for a moment as she tried to decide just how much she should share with the other woman. It wasn't that she didn’t trust Lyla, it was more that she had kept all of this pretty much to herself for so long that she wasn’t really sure where to begin, or what to include. She figured Lyla had at least a basic sense of the whole situation thanks to Dig - the man was scarily perceptive and might even know more about the dynamic than Felicity herself - so that helped with the background. And the way she had asked - the feigned casualness with which she had mentioned Oliver’s name - told Felicity that Lyla was indeed up to date on the latest happenings. Belatedly, Felicity realized that Dig had probably explained to Lyla why a girl’s night had been so needed. It didn’t upset her - she was grateful to have friends in her corner like that. 

Turning back to the other woman, Felicity quirked a small smile and shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t really know. I haven’t….we’re not really communicating very well at the moment,” she explained, in what was possibly the world’s biggest understatement. She struggled for a moment with how to find the right words to describe the situation. “Some things were said - and done - that can’t really be...walked back, you know? And I just, I need to take some space, I think. Focus more on me and less on being Oliver’s Girl Friday. Or Wednesday, if you ask him,” she elaborated, with a roll of her eyes.

Lyla nodded, her eyes showing her understanding as she took another sip of her drink before responding. 

“I think that’s a great idea. Sometimes when we spend so much time being something someone else needs, we lose sight of who we really are,” she said. “You’re young, and brilliant, and beautiful. You should definitely explore what’s out there. Make new friends, develop a new hobby…” Lyla’s eyes flashed with what Felicity could only describe as mischief. “Go out on dates,” she completed. Felicity huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“Well, the dating thing is easier said than done. I mean, the only men I’ve spent any sort of time with for really the last couple years are Oliver, Dig and Roy. And occasionally Barry. Who is in a coma. So - my prospects aren’t exactly fantastic at the moment. I’ve tried being more open to it. You know - flashing a smile at the cute barista at my coffee shop, or making eye contact with the good-looking guy in the produce aisle at the grocery store. But it’s almost like I have an imprint of Oliver on my chest or something. Nobody’s even looked twice,” Felicity sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions and taking a generous drink from her glass of wine. 

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two women, as Felicity contemplated the mess that was her love life, wondering exactly how she got to the point where the only two near-viable options she had had recently were a brooding vigilante with enough baggage to fill a cargo plane, and a bumbling forensics expert with a hero complex who was _in a coma_. Oh who was she kidding? Barry was cute and sweet and a momentary distraction from the pain of finding Oliver with Isabel and his subsequent sorta-rejection. But really, it had been the same man for two years. It was always Oliver. 

“You know,” Lyla’s voice brought Felicity out of her thoughts. “I have an idea.” Felicity turned to face her friend, raising her eyebrows in question. “You should try online dating!”

Felicity gave Lyla a skeptical look, and the other woman continued. “No, hear me out. You especially, of all people. You can totally look into anyone you come across that you might connect with - make sure they’re on the up and up. We can take some pictures of you and put them up with a profile playing up all your great qualities. I bet you have a dozen messages by morning!” 

“Wait, what? You mean _now_?!” Felicity’s incredulity was clear in her voice. 

“Why not? You look great, I’ll snap a couple photos and we can create your profile together! Come on, who better to exalt your amazingness than your new best friend?” Lyla flashed Felicity a megawatt smile, and Felicity couldn’t help but laugh in response. Maybe it was the wine, or the silliness and fun of having a girlfriend to do this kind of thing with, but she found herself agreeing to Lyla’s plan.

The women spent the next few minutes snapping dozens of pictures of Felicity, narrowing their selections down to three that looked cute and accurate and not like she was trying too hard. Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed as hard as when Lyla squeezed in next to her and took a series of duck face and silly selfies of the two of them. Felicity even saved one as her phone wallpaper - it just felt so nice to have a friend with whom she could be silly and comfortable and herself.

After choosing the pictures Lyla said made her look stunning, and Felicity had to admit Lyla had gotten some decent shots of her, the women went to work on Felicity’s profile. Between the two of them they were able to write something descriptive without revealing too much, with just the right amount of wit and snark to capture the attention of the more intelligent male dating site members. They elected to leave out the “tech support to Starling’s own green hooded vigilante” bit from the work description, and Felicity didn’t really want to include her stint as a glorified secretary _or_ her new gig at Tech Village (meant solely to provide a financial cushion while she tried to drum up clients for her own consulting gig), so they went with the more vague but still accurate “computer sciences and cyber security” for her job description. When it came to hobbies, they weren’t sure hacking or crime-solving were appropriate, so they stuck to “spending time with friends”, “watching movies”, and “drinking wine”. Lyla said it was fair to describe herself as adventurous at this point, and pointed out that men would find that intriguing. She could always gloss over some of her more daring activities by explaining that yes, she had in fact been skydiving... _and_ ziplining. Satisfied with the results of her profile, Felicity hit ‘enter’ and laughed again as Lyla clapped in glee.

“Now,” Lyla said, leaning forward next to Felicity to look at the laptop screen. "Let’s take a look at some of Starling’s most eligible.” With a few clicks, the women were browsing the site, taking note of anyone who looked decently normal. Felicity drew the line at actually contacting any of them, preferring for the time being to let her profile speak for itself and wait to see who, if anyone, got in touch with her. 

By the end of the night, Felicity felt light, carefree and hopeful in a way she hadn’t in some time. She knew she had found a real friend in Lyla, and made sure to express her gratitude to the other woman more than once. To the point that Lyla laughingly shoved her out the door and told her to _stop thanking me already, Felicity, please. It was my pleasure._ With a brief hug and promises to do it again really soon, and reassurances that enough time had passed since her last glass of wine, Felicity made her way home, the happiest she could remember being in a while.

***

“I now know what the seventh level of hell feels like,” Felicity exclaimed dramatically as she descended the stairs into the Arrow cave two days after her girl’s night with Lyla. “It feels like working the help desk at a large tech store, where idiots come and ask you why their computer won’t start _when the battery is dead.”_ She flopped down into her chair with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, I don’t know, Felicity,” Dig said, coming up to lean against her desk, arms crossed and a teasing smile playing at his lips. “I think, at the very least, blue is definitely your color.” He gestured to the bright blue Tech Village t-shirt she was still sporting, having come straight from staying late to help some guy who wanted to make sure his wife couldn’t track what he was doing on his computer. (And now her brain needed bleaching.)

“Well, yeah, there is that,” Felicity grinned back. “And - health insurance.”

“Always looking on the bright side,” Dig put his fist out, and Felicity bumped hers against it. “That’s just one of your many very admirable qualities.” He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder for a minute before moving back to the training mat. 

Felicity turned to follow his movements, and her eyes caught Oliver’s, who was sitting by his quiver, sharpening arrows. As usual, he was looking at her like she had kicked his dog, and she quickly looked away, turning slightly to face Roy as he emerged from the back room. As the younger man planted himself on a stool nearby and took a swig from his water bottle, he quirked an eyebrow at Felicity.

“I thought you loved all that computer stuff, Blondie,” he questioned. “What’s so bad about this job?” It was a valid question, and Felicity chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered her answer. She could feel Oliver’s eyes on her and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to reveal how unhappy she was at her new job in his presence, so she decided to keep it light and play it off.

“It’s not all _that_ bad,” she allowed. “Some of the customers are nice, and occasionally I get an actually challenging problem to solve. But, you know, when you’re used to regularly hacking heavily encrypted federal databases and _satellites_ and stuff,” she gestured towards her computers to emphasize the point, “helping housewives install the latest update is just a tad….monotonous.” She swung her chair around and clicked in the passcode to bring up the program she had last been working on. “Plus, the gaggle of teenage boys who come in every day and try to look down my shirt is getting a bit annoying,” she said it lightly, making sure to illustrate that she was (mostly) just joking.

Thankfully, Roy laughed, even as she heard Diggle mumble something about putting the fear of God in them. When she glanced back at Dig with the intent of sticking out her tongue, her eyes once again met Oliver’s, and this time his brow was furrowed and his face looked...stormy. Apparently he hadn’t found her joke very funny. Sighing again, she turned back to her computers to find that Roy had scooted his stool over next to her chair.

“So, I heard you had a girl’s night in with Dig’s old lady the other night,” Roy said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in Dig’s direction. “Were there pillow fights in your PJs?” Felicity slapped his arm lightly and he smirked. “No, but really I think it’s great. Getting out and stuff. I should do that some more, I guess. Now that….well, you know,” his voice trailed off as his expression clouded over, and Felicity felt a pang of sympathy for her friend, who was having a tough time with Thea being gone.

“You know,” she said. “ _We_ could hang out some time. Get out, do something together,” she offered. “See a movie, or go for ice cream or mini golf or something?" 

“Mini golf?” Roy laughed. “Are you serious?”

“What’s wrong with mini golf?” she asked defensively. “Or are you worried I’ll kick your ass?" 

“No way, Blondie. No freaking way. Alright, you’re on. Mini golf, this weekend. You and me,” Roy challenged.

“Great!” Felicity said brightly. “It’s a date!” She flushed immediately and quickly stumbled to recover. “Not a date date, but a….oh you know what I mean,” she sighed.

“Time to suit up!” Oliver barked abruptly from somewhere behind her, putting an end to their conversation. When she turned to look at him questioningly, he was actually avoiding her gaze. Shrugging, she turned back to her computers, and with one last smile in Roy’s direction as the younger man went to get dressed, she turned on her coms and prepared for that evening’s activities. 

***

Later that evening, after the bad guys had been successfully and fairly easily apprehended, and Dig and Roy had signed off and headed home, Felicity was finishing up the last of the updates on her system, aiming to finish up and leave before Oliver returned. He had started taking the long way home after missions in the last couple of weeks, seemingly understanding Felicity’s desire to avoid being alone with him. She was equal parts grateful and annoyed that he wasn’t at all willing to fight for her. He had just accepted her initial silent treatment and subsequent distance as if he had no choice in the matter, without even trying to convince her otherwise. 

A chime from the computer broke into her thoughts, and Felicity frowned, not recognizing the sound. It took her a minute to realize it was a notification from the dating site - she had programmed it to run in the background without needing the actual site open. In the two days since putting up her profile she had received a bunch of messages and alerts, but so far none of them had been from anyone remotely worth responding to. Resigned to more disappointment, Felicity opened the site and went into her messages. 

She was pleasantly surprised to find a well-written, complimentary but not creepy email. Clicking on the guy’s profile, she was met with an attractive, smiling man. She read through and discovered that, according to his profile, he ran his own small business, loved dogs, and was a big part of his nieces’ and nephews’ lives. He enjoyed being active and was a wine collector. His pictures supported these claims: one was of him with a wine glass, another of him with a large black lab, and the third of him surrounded by four small children, all of them making silly faces for the camera.

“Well, hello there, Scott,” Felicity muttered to herself. “Let’s see who you _really_ are.” With a few clicks of the keyboard, Felicity had pulled up a much more in-depth look at the man who had emailed her. Everything seemed to check out, and she felt her excitement growing. “Okay, then. I think this might actually be a good one. So, Scott, tell me more about yourself. Let’s pretend I don’t already know,” she continued, preparing to draft a response. 

A throat clearing behind her startled her, and her hand flew to her throat as she swung her chair around to face the intruder.

“Jesus, Oliver! A little warning next time. You could give a girl a heart attack!” she reprimanded, working on slowing her racing heart. What passed for a small smile pulled at Oliver’s lips briefly, but was quickly replaced by the hard set of his mouth. He looked away for a second before focusing his gaze back on her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Am I...interrupting something?” He asked, nodding towards her computer. Felicity bit her lip and shook her head, spinning her chair again and minimizing the dating site screen.

“No, I was just finishing up the updates. I’m almost done and I’ll be out of your hair in a minute or two,” she assured him.

“No need to rush out on my account,” Oliver responded, as he unstrapped his quiver and moved to replace it in its case. “You never have to leave just because I’m here, Felicity.” Felicity didn’t respond, keeping her eyes focused on her screen as she tried to hurry her updates along. The air in the room was suddenly heavy and tense, and Felicity wanted nothing more than to escape to the safety of her car, and her home, and refocus on responding to Scott. She heard Oliver sigh behind her, closer than she expected him to be.

“Felicity,” he said softly. Again, she didn’t respond. “Felicity, please look at me.”

Bracing herself, she turned slowly to face Oliver. He was right there in front of her now, close enough that if she raised her hand she would be able to lay it flat on his chest without stretching. His eyes were full of turmoil and pain, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t speak or move. She was drawn in by the way he was looking at her - like he had so much to say that he didn’t know where to start.

“I miss you.” His words were so soft that it took her a minute to register that he had even spoken at all. “I miss talking to you, hearing about your day in a way other than from listening as you talk to the others,” he continued. “I just -  I miss you.”

He sounded so heartfelt, so sincere that Felicity felt her walls crumbling. It would be so easy to open up, to let him in. To fall back into their old habits and just be...Oliver and Felicity again. Whatever that meant. She wanted it. She still wanted it, damn him. In just a few words he had managed to almost undo weeks of progress.

But then he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers. It was like his touch snapped her back to reality, and all the hurt and anger of the past few months came back to her in a rush. She pulled her hand forcefully out from under his and stood, taking a step to the side to put some distance between her and Oliver.  

“The updates will be done in a minute or two, and the computer is programmed to go to sleep on its own. Have a nice night, Oliver.” She grabbed her bag and rushed up the stairs, not looking back or stopping until she was inside her car. Once there, she allowed the tears to fall. Damn Oliver Queen. Damn him to hell.

***

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver had been sure that he had made the right decision, not telling Felicity how he really felt about her. It was better - safer - for everyone that way. But he hadn’t anticipated just how much things would change following his non-response to her questioning on Lian Yu. Now, he misses her even when she’s right in front of him, and she’s living her life and moving on from him. Without him. She’s online dating for God’s sake. And Oliver is suddenly not so sure he had made the right decision after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we get Oliver’s POV on everything that’s been going on over the last few weeks, which will hopefully answer some questions. Though still a bit light on the actual Oliver/Felicity interactions, this chapter is heavy on the Oliver thinking and talking about Felicity. The action, and interaction, starts to really pick up in the next chapter. So hang in there with me!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has liked, left kudos, commented, sent asks or reblogged on tumblr. I’m continually blown away by the response! And as always, I can’t express properly my gratitude to dettoit for betaing and callistawolf for reading and giving me her feedback!

Two weeks, three days, four hours and seventeen minutes. That was how long it had been since Oliver had last had a conversation with Felicity. Oh sure, they spoke. But given how close they had been before, he didn’t exactly think _Hi, how are you? Fine, you?_ counted. Neither did _Oliver, you have two guys approaching from behind, they’ll be on you in 10...9...8…_ or other such Arrow-related interactions over the comms. So, no. The last actual conversation they had together had been on the shores of Purgatory. And now Oliver was stuck in another kind of purgatory. Was that the definition of irony?

His last attempt at talking to her hadn’t gone well. It had started out sort of okay. For a minute there he had been sure Felicity was going to give in, let her guard down and respond to him the way she used to. But then his body had acted of its own accord, his hand reaching out to touch her - he craved her touch, hadn’t realized how much he needed it until it was gone - and she had bolted. 

He hadn’t even meant to talk to her. He had, once again, taken the long way home, giving her time to clear out before he arrived. He hated doing it, and every evening he fought his instinct to race back to the Foundry just to catch a glimpse of her, since that was pretty much all he got nowadays anyway. But he was trying to respect her boundaries. Hell, he was just grateful that she had given up on the total silent treatment. He didn’t want to push her. But then he had come in, and she had been talking to herself about responding to some guy’s email...this, after he had overheard Dig telling Roy that Lyla had convinced Felicity to sign up for an online dating site. After making his presence known and receiving such a classic Felicity response, his own guard had been down and he had pushed further than he meant to. What the hell had he been thinking, telling her he missed her? He knew that it wouldn’t be received well. It was the truth, though. He did miss her. She had been a constant in his life for so long that he felt almost empty without her. She had become so important to him that not having her by his side the way he had gotten used to - it stung. Badly. 

If he was honest with himself, the idea of her smiling about some guy - thinking of how to craft a reply that would get _someone else_ to ask her out - had made his blood run cold and his heart sink to his stomach. He wasn't unfamiliar with jealousy. But this was different, it was a bone-deep desire to be the cause of her smile. A pull in his gut so strong that he could physically feel it. So, yeah. That may have had something to do with why he revealed too much and pushed her too far. It was such a mistake, though. Because he knew - he _knew_ \- that the main reason Felicity was upset with him at all was because of things just like this. Because of him saying things and not following through, because of him giving just a little and then taking it back when she tried to grab on. Him telling her he missed her wouldn’t be perceived by her as sweet or endearing. Not anymore. It would be perceived as taunting, and hurtful; maybe even manipulative. And he _knew that_. But he did it anyways. 

Oliver wasn’t as obtuse when it came to his emotions and to human interaction as everyone believed him to be. He knew how he felt, and he knew how his actions were perceived by others. No. It was in _putting his feelings into action_ where he struggled. It was in allowing emotion to guide him, rather than suppressing it so far down that to others it appeared as if he didn’t have any emotions at all. It was in thinking through the ramifications and consequences of his actions - how he had the potential to hurt others...to hurt her. He could admit - to himself, at least, and maybe to Dig on a good day - that he had used emotions as a tool, and that he had grossly miscalculated the results.

And now he was lying on a thin air mattress, on the floor of the damp Foundry, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Felicity setting up a date with another man. He considered it his penance. 

But he still had no clue what the hell he was going to do about it. 

Restless, and needing to move and do something - _anything_ \- Oliver got up from his makeshift bed in the corner and tugged on a pair of jeans. Without really thinking it through, he pulled on his green leather jacket and threw the hood over his head. Before he could really process what he was doing, he was on his bike, peeling out of the alley behind Verdant. Starling City was quiet; the bustle of late night activity had died down and the sleepy stirrings of early morning exercisers had not yet begun. His Ducati was loud against the still night as he sped through the otherwise silent streets with no clear destination in mind. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he found himself across the street from Felicity’s townhouse; after all, he had arrived there much the same way the previous night, and two nights before that, and the night before that….and really just a lot of times over the past couple weeks. Though this wasn’t new behavior - there had been more than one instance over the past two years when he had planted himself on the rooftop across from hers, just to make sure she was okay (he told himself) - it felt more clandestine, more forbidden as of late. Probably because he knew that unlike the times _before_ (before Slade, before the conversation on Lian Yu, before the most important, and tumultuous, kiss of his life), now his presence would be obviously and pointedly unwelcome. 

Still, he hadn’t been able to kick the habit. So now, he arrived later into the night. Long past the time that Felicity would be asleep ( _if she was alone,_ his treacherous mind interjected.) And okay, so maybe a very small part of him wanted to check to see if she was, in fact, alone. But really most parts of him just wanted to make sure she was safe. The Arrow had enemies. Oliver Queen had enemies. And Felicity Smoak was publicly linked to both.

And maybe, just maybe, another tiny, buried, hidden part of him simply wanted to feel close to her.

That part was getting harder and harder to keep buried and hidden.

It also wasn’t such a tiny part. Not anymore.

*** 

Oliver’s days were a lot more free and open now that Queen Consolidated wasn’t really his. Sure, there were occasional meetings with lawyers or shareholders, but not every day. With Thea gone and Felicity ...unavailable… Oliver’s days were actually pretty boring. He had hoped to spend the summer beefing up his business knowledge with Felicity’s help, but since that now wasn’t an option, he actually spent a decent amount of time at the library, studying on his own. If not there or in the Foundry training and exercising, he often planted himself on the sofa of the Diggle/Michaels’ apartment, glad for the company in his monotony. 

When his mind wasn’t focused on learning the ins and outs of actually running a business, it was occupied with thoughts of a certain blonde. No matter what he did, where he was, she wasn’t far from his mind. Case in point: he was sitting on John and Lyla’s couch, next to his friend, watching the baseball game. But he had no idea what the score was, what inning the game was in, or even which team was up to bat. All he could think about was what Felicity was doing. 

He knew, logically speaking, that she was at work. It  was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, after all. He could picture her with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, donning the bright blue Tech Village t-shirt and khakis. Her current uniform was such a departure from the sleek, high-end outfits she had taken to wearing as his EA. The dresses and skirts that, despite his protestations to Isabel, he _had definitely_ noticed were plenty short. And tight. She had even started wearing her hair down more often, letting her wavy blonde locks flow in a way that had been thoroughly distracting on more than one occasion. 

Not for the first time, Oliver felt pangs of guilt while contemplating Felicity’s employment situation. Both for making her his Executive Assistant without consulting her in the first place, and then for signing the company over to a virtual stranger - who turned out to have very nefarious plans in mind - with no regard for how the outcome would impact Felicity (or John, for that matter.) Once again, a classic example of Oliver acting without thinking about how his behavior would impact others. And now she was stuck working a job he knew she didn’t enjoy. It was beneath her and demeaning. And it was his fault. 

Sighing, Oliver leaned back against the couch and ran his hands over his face. This was just one of the many reasons why he was no good for Felicity. He was selfish and impulsive at the worst times. Personal relationships only served to cloud his judgment - allowing himself to truly feel the depths of emotion that would be part of a relationship with Felicity would be dangerous.For everyone involved. 

“You know,” Diggle’s mildly amused voice interrupted Oliver’s downward spiral into his own mind. “I’ve heard that talking about your issues can actually be helpful, for many people. In fact,” Oliver turned his head towards his friend as the other man spoke, unsurprised to see a smirk on John’s face. “I believe they’ve dedicated an entire profession to just that.” 

Oliver huffed out a laugh but remained silent. He knew his friend meant well, but he also didn’t want to put him in the middle. Not only was John fiercely protective of Felicity, he was also her biggest fan. Add to that the fact that Felicity and Lyla had gotten extremely close lately, and Oliver felt that it might just be a bit too much. Diggle, however, was one step ahead of Oliver’s insecurities, as usual. 

“Listen, man,” his former bodyguard continued. “It’s not like I don’t know what’s got you all tied up in knots. Hell, anyone with eyes would know after 30 seconds watching the two of you together. But I know you, and I know what’s happened. And I know that if you keep pushing it all down it’s just gonna explode in the worst way. So...why don’t you try talking it out a bit?” 

Oliver sighed and contemplated what his friend was saying. He was so used to pushing his emotions down, trying to ignore them. But he knew Dig was right. This time, it wasn't working. His emotions weren't staying down, no matter how hard Oliver pushed. And if he didn't get them under control they _would_ explode, and the consequences of that happening...well, they wouldn't be good. 

"I just," he started, trying to gather the cacophony of thoughts in his head into words. "I don't know how to be like this with her, you know? I'm trying to respect the lines she's drawn but...I just...I don't like it.” He paused, once again trying to collect his thoughts. “Maybe it’s better off this way. Maybe I should just...let her go. It would be safer. For everyone. I don’t know. I know that I don't like the way things are but I don't really know how to make it better.” 

Dig was quiet for a few moments, clearly mulling over what Oliver had said. 

"I don't think that's true, Oliver," the other man said softly. "I think you know exactly how to make things better. But for whatever reason, you won't do it. Whether you don't want to - which I don't believe for a second - or you're scared."   

He raised an eyebrow at Oliver's scoff.  "Yeah, man, scared. Whatever your reasoning, you're damaging your relationship with the best person to come into your life in a long time. Felicity is patient. And she cares about you, maybe even more than you realize. But she's too good to be stuck waiting around forever. You say it’s safer this way. But I don’t think you even realize that you mean safer _for your heart._ So whatever it is that's holding you back, you better figure it out, and soon. Or you're gonna lose her for good." 

Dig reached out, clasping Oliver's shoulder and squeezing gently. Oliver managed a small smile at his friend, as his mind processed what the other man was saying. He knew Dig was right; the status quo had been shaken and Felicity was slipping further and further away every day. He had to decide if he was willing to let her go, and if not, what he was going to do about it. 

"Listen, Oliver. You know I adore Felicity. She's like a sister to me. But man, you're like a brother to me, too. I want you to be happy. I've watched the two of you dance around each other for two years. You guys together? That could be something amazing. But you need to be ready to accept what that means. Because if you aren't, everybody's gonna end up hurt. Most of all her." Dig raised his eyebrows in a clear warning, but Oliver could also see the affection and support in his eyes. "And if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here." 

Oliver nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. He wanted to believe what Dig was saying about him and Felicity - that they could be good together, and happy - but he just didn't know if he could see it. Maybe Dig was right about everything. And maybe Oliver _was_ scared. 

*** 

Oliver was running across rooftops in downtown Starling, trying to keep up with the vehicle he was pursuing as it maneuvered through the streets below him. A jewelry heist had taken place in the diamond district, and Felicity's computers had alerted them to the robbery as it was in progress. Oliver had arrived to see the perpetrators escaping in a van and had given chase as Felicity tracked them with traffic cameras. Roy was following the van on his bike, and Dig was running their own van parallel to the bad guys’, waiting to cut them off if the need arose. 

He was trying to figure out how to keep on them, while simultaneously steering them away from the more heavily populated part of town. As it was, the van was weaving in and out of cars, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before an innocent bystander got hurt. He was just about to ask Felicity for some help when he heard the comm unit buzz to life. 

“I’ve hacked into the traffic light system, Oliver. I’m going to try to steer them to a less open area. Head west towards the warehouse district so you can intercept them,” Felicity guided in his ear. “Roy, keep on their tail, and Dig, you can head straight to the destination to meet them there,” she directed, all business and totally in control. 

Oliver was in awe of her. It had taken her literally seconds to not only anticipate what he needed and devise this plan, but hack into the system to set it in motion and then relay it to the team. Though he wasn’t likely to admit it to anyone anytime soon, Felicity really was the true leader of their team. She was their coordinator, their cheerleader, their moral compass - she was their Jill of all Trades. He could barely remember doing this without her. 

It also didn't escape his notice that despite her hurt and anger at him over their personal situation, she never let that get in the way of any Arrow-related business. Even when he had been an ass to her about Barry, she had never let it interfere with her work on their missions. 

"Alright guys, they're headed straight into the warehouse area. There are no more traffic lights so it's all you, now." 

Oliver murmured his acknowledgment and heard similar responses from Roy and Dig. He spotted the van making its way through the assortment of warehouses, looking for a way out of the area into which Felicity had so expertly trapped them. 

“According to the city plans, there’s a dead end up ahead and to the right,” Felicity reported. “That might be a good place to intercept them.” 

Oliver watched, following closely as the van indeed took the turn into the dead end Felicity had mentioned. When it stopped for a minute as it prepared to back up,Oliver took his opportunity, jumping down on top of it just as he heard Roy's bike arrive behind him, Dig joining less than a minute later. It didn't take long for the three of them to overpower and apprehend the four men in the van, tying them up and leaving them sitting with their loot. 

Oliver was about to ask Felicity to call it in, when he heard the sounds of SCPD sirens in the distance. Of course, she had once again beat him to the punch. It was such a common occurrence that it didn’t even surprise him.   

"The police will take it from here, boys," Felicity advised. "I've already confirmed the win with Captain Lance. Time to call it a night. Good work, team!" 

Oliver could hear the grin in her voice, and it never failed to amaze him how she still got excited about each and every win. She was so positive, so driven to do good. It also flabbergasted him that she was so committed to viewing all their success as an equal team effort, when he knew without a shadow of a doubt that tonight’s victory, like all their victories, was largely (possibly _mostly_ ) due to her work. 

"Thanks to you," he responded before he could help himself. "That was a brilliant plan." 

There was a pause on the comms, and then he heard a snicker that sounded like Roy. 

"It _was_ a smart plan. Thanks, Felicity. Lucky for us we have you and your quick thinking," Dig jumped in, helping to ease some of the awkwardness of the silence following Oliver's compliment. 

"Thanks, guys. Just doing my part," Felicity finally replied, and Oliver felt himself release the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

"On that note, I'm signing off and heading home. Lyla has a craving for movie theater popcorn I've got to somehow figure out how to fulfill," Dig reported.

"I'm off, too," Roy echoed. "Felicity, we on for lunch during your break tomorrow?" 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" she responded brightly.

The other two men clicked off, and Oliver knew Felicity would be next. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest at hearing Felicity and Roy so casual about their lunch plans. It wasn't that he thought there was anything romantic going on between his protege and the blonde; he knew better than that. It was just that he missed that ease, that level of comfort with Felicity. He wished that he could have standing lunch plans with her. He wished he could have _any_ plans with her. Felicity and Roy had been growing increasingly closer since their mini golf outing, and as childish as it sounded….Oliver felt left out. Not wanting Felicity to leave just yet, craving just a few more moments of connection with her, he spoke. 

"I meant what I said before," he hurried to say, before Felicity could sign off. "We wouldn't be able to do this without you." He knew it was a risk, talking to her like this. It felt intimate and outside the boundaries Felicity had put up for them. But he also knew he couldn't say nothing. He needed her to know how vital she was to their work. To him.

There was a long pause where Oliver wasn't sure she was even there anymore. But just when he was about to click his comm off and try to forget it, he heard the cackle of static that preceded someone speaking.

"Thanks, Oliver," she said softly in his ear. "I appreciate that." He smiled to himself as the fist around his heart eased up a bit. 

"I know I haven't said it in a while," he replied. "But you really are remarkable, Felicity Smoak."

Silence, again. But shorter this time. And then - 

"Goodnight, Oliver. Try to get some rest." And then she was gone.

But Oliver was smiling the entire way back to the Foundry. It might have been a small victory, but Oliver let himself revel in it.

And he didn't mean catching the jewel thieves.

***

Later, as Oliver settled in for the evening, he found himself once again replaying his conversation with Diggle from a few days ago. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about what his friend had said. But this evening’s mission had highlighted some things for Oliver - reminded him of just a few of the reasons he had developed feelings for Felicity in the first place. As was often the case when he thought about Felicity, his mind drifted to that night in the mansion. 

The Kiss. Even in his thoughts, The Kiss deserved capitalization. _How very Felicity of me_ , he thought ruefully. It wasn’t exactly a first kiss for the romance books. The circumstances had been...strenuous, at best. And he hadn’t intended to kiss her. Before that night, when he had allowed himself to imagine kissing Felicity...it had been far more romantic. There had been dinner, and wine, and laughter. And _time_. Time to kiss her properly. To hold her face in his hands, press her against the wall, breathe her in. Time to allow the kiss to deepen, to tease her lips with his tongue before sliding it into her mouth and against hers. Time to rest his forehead against hers after, to look her in the eyes and _not hand her a damn syringe._

He didn’t regret kissing her. He could never regret that. Kissing her had felt right in a way nothing else had in a long, long time. It had felt familiar and comfortable but new and exciting all at the same time. The tiny taste he had gotten hadn’t been enough - he could have kissed her for hours, until neither of them remembered where they were or what was going on around them. He would have gladly continued kissing her for days. So, no. He didn’t regret kissing her. 

But damn him if he didn’t regret the way it had happened. If he didn’t regret the look in her eyes after. In a perfect world, their first kiss would have been different. It would have been special, and it would have been preceded and followed by intimacy and connection. In a perfect world, where he didn’t suit up every night and take down criminals, where he didn’t have enemies who knew his name and her face, where he didn’t need to be laser-focused at all times...in that world, things would be different. Dig was right. He _was_ scared. But he still didn’t quite know himself just what exactly he was scared _of._

Somewhere along the way, she had become so much a part of his life. So much a part of him. Her voice in his ear earlier that night had demonstrated what he already knew about her role in his mission - that he needed her. Without her (and Dig of course, but really her) he probably would have been long dead, victim of his own impulsiveness and lack of foresight. But it wasn’t just his mission; it wasn’t just the Arrow who needed her. She wasn’t just IT girl/Girl Wednesday (Friday, he knew it was Friday). Oliver Queen needed Felicity Smoak. She was lightness and happiness and (literally) joy. 

While the Arrow might never have become a hero without her, Oliver would definitely never have become the man he was now without Felicity. She had been the first person after the island to make him smile, really smile, and laugh, and see beyond the List and his mission of revenge. She had showed him another way - more than once. She had accepted everything he had thrown at her. She continued to challenge him and push him while still managing to come from a place of affection and support. 

And she thought that _he_ thought they were unthinkable. The idea hurt his heart. But he couldn’t claim that he didn’t understand why. He knew why she was hurt and angry. And he deserved it. That’s why he had been trying so hard to respect her boundaries. But...he didn’t want to. He didn’t want this distance between them. Not only did he need her in his life, he _wanted_ her in his life. But in what capacity? He knew he wasn’t ready to be with her, but he also knew he couldn’t ask her to wait. Was he willing to accept only friendship from her, possibly permanently, if it meant that he wouldn’t lose her completely?

And then there was the fact that she wasn’t even really speaking to him. He had gotten through to her tonight, at least a little bit, he thought. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to somehow show her that he had changed - that he had grown and that he was open to personal connections and relationships in a way that he hadn’t been before. 

But he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to open himself up, to ignore the parts of him that screamed _danger, abort!_ He didn’t know how to be a man who was good enough for her, a man who could give her what she deserved. All he knew was that he wanted to.

With a sigh, Oliver realized that sleep would, once again, be elusive tonight. But with his new resolve in place - to somehow fix things with Felicity - he knew he couldn’t fall back on his little habit of swinging by her place. He needed to break the mold if he had any shot of convincing her he was changing. Climbing out of his makeshift bed, Oliver quickly changed into some workout pants. After a few moments of stretching and warming up, he began a rigorous routine on the salmon ladder. Working out like this always helped him focus and he needed a clear head to figure out what he was doing to do next. 

He would figure it out. There was too much at stake not to.

***


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Oliver may be determined to fix things between him and Felicity, Felicity is moving forward with her plans to live her life as Oliver-free as possible. And that includes dating. With Lyla’s approval, Felicity sets up a date with Scott-from-the-internet. Scott is sweet, charming, smart and successful. And Felicity wants to slap herself upside the head because she can’t stop thinking about Oliver, even while sitting across from super sweet Scott. But when Oliver does something unexpected, Felicity’s reaction may set them even further back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start to get messy. Or...messier. One step forward and….a dozen steps back? Sorry, guys. The angst isn’t quite over yet. But we’re definitely moving in an Olicity direction!
> 
> As always, thank you times a million to my loves: dettiot and callistawolf! Mwah!

“Coming! I’m coming! Just a sec,” Felicity called out as she raced through her townhouse, dodging strewn clothing in her effort to get to the door. It was getting progressively hotter in Starling City with each passing day and really, it was just rude to leave a pregnant woman outside in the heat. Add to that the fact that Lyla was coming over to help her, and, well, Felicity was hurrying to the door as quickly as she could. “Hey!” she exclaimed, finally reaching the door and yanking it open. “Come in, come in. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. I hope you aren’t too hot! Can I get you anything? Lemonade? A cold towel?”

Lyla quirked an eyebrow and smirked as she slid past Felicity and into the living room, dropping her purse on the coffee table and plopping onto the couch with the familiarity of a close friend. To be honest, it made Felicity’s heart soar to realize that the other woman actually did consider them close friends, despite the relative recentness of their friendship.

“A cold towel? Felicity,” Lyla smiled knowingly, “are you feeling just a tad nervous about tomorrow?" 

Felicity sighed and sat down next to Lyla on the couch. After almost a week of emailing back and forth, Scott-from-the-Internet had finally asked Felicity out, and the two were meeting the following night for dinner. Over text and phone calls throughout the week, Lyla and Felicity had scrutinized every word exchanged between Felicity and her suitor, and they had also gone over all the extra information Felicity had not at all illegally obtained about the man. Everything about Scott seemed great. And Felicity was excited. She also had to admit that giggling with Lyla over the flirty emails she received was almost as fun as the actual flirty emails. 

Emailing with Scott _had_ been fun. It had been lighthearted, and easy, and flirtatious. He was smart and witty, even in writing, and she enjoyed their banter and looked forward to his emails. And Lyla approved, which was important to Felicity. As really her only female friend at the moment, Lyla’s opinion mattered. Which was why Felicity had listened when Lyla suggested giving Scott her number. She had taken her friend’s advice and been upfront with the man, sending an email that basically spelled it out for him. 

 _Scott,_  

 _I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you the past few days, and I think I’d enjoy it even more if we continued getting to know each other in person. If that’s something that interests you, here’s my number._  

 _Felicity_  

It had only taken two hours after sending that email for him to call her and ask her to dinner. It had been a long time since Felicity had experienced butterflies over someone the way she did during and after that phone call. Well. Butterflies over someone other than Oliver. Although, with Oliver, it wasn’t exactly butterflies. Not anymore. It was more like a constant and continuous swooping sensation in her stomach. A lightheaded feeling. Or, it had been. Until recently. Now it was just….hard. And awkward. Like a fist was clenching her gut and wouldn’t let go. 

The other night, when he had said all those nice things to her over the comms - when he had called her remarkable, _again_ , and _obviously on purpose_ \- she had felt the swooping sensation return. As much as she had tried to clamp down on it, to stop the fluttering around in her stomach at his praise, and at the sincerity in his voice, she had felt it. And she had been angry at herself for allowing him to get to her so easily. And then she had felt guilty. Because clearly he was trying. But it wasn’t enough. And it was too late. 

Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. 

So she had thrown herself into getting to know Scott. And when he had asked her out, she had swallowed the guilt that had surged at the idea of not being in the Foundry for the evening, and agreed to a late dinner. And then she had realized….it has been so damn long since she had been on a date. And she had no idea what to wear. 

One panicked phone call later, and here Lyla was - to help her choose an outfit and just generally calm all her date-related nerves. So, after getting Lyla the aforementioned glass of lemonade, Felicity went up to her bedroom and scooped the huge pile of clothes that had made it into the ‘maybe’ pile into her arms, before coming back downstairs to model the various outfit options. As Felicity tried on as many date-appropriate outfits as possible, Lyla opened up a line of questioning that Felicity could tell was going to lead to Oliver places. 

“I know you’re nervous,” Lyla began, as Felicity pulled on a semi sheer blue blouse and tucked it into a black pencil skirt. “But is it an ‘I’m so excited’ nervous, or an ‘I’m going to throw up’ nervous?”   

Felicity blew an errant strand of hair out of her face and contemplated the question. 

“I think...mostly excited? With just a teeny amount of nausea. Miniscule, really,” she replied, slipping on her black pumps. She turned to face Lyla fully, hands on her hips. “So, do we like?” 

“Ehhh….too sexy librarian, I think,” Lyla scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “Next outfit,” she directed. “And that’s good. A little nausea never hurt anyone,” she smirked. As Lyla shifted in her seat, Felicity narrowed her eyes, anticipating the next question. Trying to prolong the inevitable, she turned around and slipped out of her clothes, reaching for the next outfit from the pile. “Have you told Oliver you need the night off tomorrow?” Lyla finally asked to Felicity’s back. 

Felicity had not, in fact, told Oliver anything. She had instead mentioned it to Dig. She knew it was the cowardly approach, to not directly say to Oliver that she wouldn’t be at the Foundry the following evening. And she also knew that she had nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about. Yet that didn't stop her from feeling as though she was betraying Oliver by going out with another man. And that feeling, that gnawing guilt, just served to make her angry and tense. So she avoided the situation completely by telling Dig, and counting on him to tell Oliver...something. Whether it was the whole truth or some variation that left out the date part - well, that was up to John. Felicity was steering clear of it entirely. 

Pulling a royal blue jersey dress over her head and reaching behind her back to pull up the zipper, Felicity turned back around to face Lyla. She slipped into a pair of strappy nude wedges before finally answering her friend. 

“Not exactly,” she answered, before wincing and shaking her head at her own fib. “I mean, no. I didn’t tell Oliver. I told Dig instead.” Lyla nodded, and then fixed an even stare on Felicity. 

“I get why you did it that way, Felicity,” she assured, “but at some point you’re going to need to address this head on. You and Oliver - whatever that is...or _was_ \- you aren’t doing anything wrong by dating. And you shouldn’t need to hide it from him.”

Felicity sighed and glanced away for a minute, worrying her bottom lip beneath her teeth as she contemplated what Lyla was saying. She knew her friend was right, she had been thinking the same thing, but hearing it out loud just made her realize how very much she did _not_ want to confront it head on, no matter how much she acknowledged that it needed to be done.

“I know,” she answered after a long moment. “But I’m just not there yet.” 

Lyla nodded again, and then tilted her head and looked Felicity over appraisingly. She grinned suddenly, shifting the mood in the room, and pointed her finger at Felicity, making an up and down gesture.

“This is it,” she said excitedly. “This is the outfit. It’s perfect!” 

“Yeah?” Felicity asked, glancing down at herself. “You think?” The dress was a thick blue jersey knit, with tank top straps and a scooped neckline. It was fitted through the waist before flaring out over her hips and thighs, with a hemline that sat quite a few inches above the knee. It was flirty and flattering, and Felicity felt confident in it. Paired with her high, nude strappy wedge sandals, the entire outfit made her feel good. 

“Definitely! It’s flirty without being too much. I love it!” Lyla echoed her approval. With that decided, and after a quick discussion about jewelry and how to wear her hair, Felicity changed back into shorts and a t-shirt, hanging the dress up to keep it clean for the following day.

Settling next to Lyla on the couch, the women chatted about the latest episode of the trashy tv show they had discovered they had in common, while Felicity tried to focus on her excitement for her date, and not the look she knew she would see on Oliver’s face when he found out that she was leaving early to go out with another guy.

*** 

Felicity’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. She had seen some commercial once on late night TV about Restless Leg Syndrome, and at this moment she really, _really_ empathized with sufferers of it. She just couldn’t get it to stop bouncing. Even her attempts to focus on coding the program the guys needed, to make sure everything ran smoothly in her absence, hadn’t helped. Neither had trying to lose herself in watching the graceful way Roy and Dig were sparring on the workout mat.

She was nervous. And excited. And nervous. Had she mentioned she was nervous? It was almost time for her to leave for her date, and she was nervous. If the looks Roy and Dig kept shooting her were any indication, she wasn’t doing a very good job of masking those nerves. The only saving grace, really the only reason she hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of anxiety, was that Oliver had yet to appear in the lair. Felicity was actually starting to think she might manage to make it out without having to face him at all. 

If she was being honest with herself, and unfortunately she was, her relief at Oliver’s lack of presence was warring with disappointment. She didn’t like to consider herself a petty person, but a small part of her had really wanted Oliver to see her all dressed up for her date. She was perversely curious to see his reaction - not only to her appearance, but just to the idea of her going out with someone. As much as she was trying to push it down and out and away, some piece of her still clung to the hope that Oliver would have an epiphany and decide he couldn’t live without her. Romantically. Not just as his tech support. 

“Blondie, would you stop that? You’re gonna tap a hole into the desk if you keep that up,” Roy’s voice startled Felicity, and she jumped in her seat. She hadn’t even realized she had been tapping her pen against the desk over and over; a nervous tic. She immediately dropped the pen and stood up. Sighing, she turned around to face her friends and smoothed her hands over her dress. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just -” she started to say, only to be cut off by both men. 

“Nervous,” they said simultaneously. “We know,” Dig continued, quirking an eyebrow at her and smirking.

“You need to relax,” Roy took over, walking towards her and grabbing a towel to wipe at his face. “It’s gonna be great. You look fantastic. The guy isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

She threw a smile at the younger man, as Dig muttered something about hitting the guy if he crossed any lines. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Felicity leaned her hip against her desk and tried to quell her nerves a bit. 

“Thanks, guys. It’s just been so long since I’ve been on a date -” and as though the universe had decided that Felicity Smoak’s life could never be simple, the electronic lock beeped and the door at the top of the stairs swung open just as the word ‘date’ left her mouth. Without thinking, Felicity swung her gaze towards the entrance...and froze. Because, for the first time in as long as she could remember, Oliver’s face displayed every emotion he was feeling clear as day.

He stood at the top of the stairs, door open behind him, and he seemed to be just as frozen as she was. And his eyes...she could see the longing, the desire, the pain, and even the hint of something fiercer. Anger? No. Not quite. _Jealousy._ She realized with a start. She could read the jealousy in his eyes.

They stood there, staring at each other, for what felt like hours. The world around her shrunk, and her entire being was focused on Oliver’s face. She was transfixed. It was like she couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t do anything but take in the emotions staring back at her. She wondered vaguely what emotions he was seeing on _her_ face. If her feelings for him, about the situation, were displayed clearly for him to take in.  

And then, suddenly and without warning, his face shuttered. Closed off totally. Wiped of emotion. He broke her gaze just as suddenly, turning to push the door closed behind him before he descended the stairs, now steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes. Felicity felt off balance, like she was behind by a few seconds and needed to catch up. She was still standing, rooted to the spot, staring at the place where Oliver had been only a moment earlier. When her brain finally did catch up to what was happening, she tore her eyes from the doorway and turned around, briefly catching Roy’s sympathetic glance. Dig, she saw from the corner of her eye, was looking at Oliver, his eyebrows raised in a patented display of Diggle judgment. But Oliver was ignoring him, too.

 _This,_ she thought to herself. _This is why we can’t be anything. Now get it together, Smoak. You have a date. With a guy who is actually willing to **admit** he likes you. You deserve that. You deserve better, _ she mentally pep talked, in a voice that sounded quite a bit like Lyla’s. With a deep breath and a mental shake of her head, she turned to face Dig squarely, refusing to glance around or even acknowledge Oliver’s presence.

“Well,” she started, infusing her voice with a cheerfulness she did not feel, “everything should be all set for you guys. I’ve got a sequence running now that should spit out the location we’re after as soon as it has it, and we’ve been over how to run the comms before…”

“Relax, Felicity,” Dig replied with a smile. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry.” She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip for a second before realizing that she was probably ruining her lipstick.

“Right, well, I’m just gonna go…” she gestured vaguely to the back of the lair where the bathroom was, “freshen up, before I head out.” She smiled weakly at Dig before rounding the med table and heading to the bathroom. She had to pass by where Oliver was standing, his back to her, and she forced herself to keep her eyes straight ahead as she did. Nonetheless, she felt him turn as she passed, the heat of his eyes following her until she escaped into the small, utilitarian bathroom and closed the door.

Taking a few deep breaths, Felicity leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on her earlier excitement for the date, instead of the look in Oliver’s eyes when he had opened the door to the lair. Why had she wanted him to see her? What a terrible, no good, awful idea. And why was he looking at her like _that_ if he wasn’t going to _do_ anything about it? The gnawing fist clenching her gut was warring with the mounting frustration she was feeling, and she didn’t want either emotion to win out. She was going on a date, damn it, with a _nice, normal guy_ who wanted to date her. Oliver Queen was _not_ going to ruin that for her.

With her new resolve (pretty) firmly in place, Felicity moved to the small sink area and took a few moments to fix her lipstick and eyeliner, and make sure her hair was still sitting in the nice, voluminous waves she had styled earlier. She adjusted her dress so that it was sitting properly and showing off all the right things (while covering all the appropriate places), and with one final glance at her reflection, she nodded and pulled the bathroom door open. 

Striding back into the main room, she held her head high and tried to exude confidence. _Fake it ‘til you make it,_ she thought. She took in the scene around her - her boys, playing with their toys. Oliver sharpening arrows, Roy working with the punching bag, and Dig - over by her computers, looking but not touching (because he knew better) as the program ticked a slew of locations off a list.

“Well,” she said softly. Three heads swung in her direction. She smiled at them. “I’m off. If you guys need _anything_ , call me. I mean it.” But Dig and Roy were already shaking their heads before the words were even out of her mouth.

“Absolutely not,” Dig refused. “Go! Get out of here. Have fun!" 

“Right,” she hesitated, unable to make her feet move in the direction of the stairs. “Okay then…” 

There was a moment of silence, as all four of them just looked at each other, before Oliver cleared his throat, and this time three heads swung in _his_ direction. Felicity felt her cheeks warm as she found his eyes firmly on her, the look in them indecipherable, but much softer than earlier. 

“Could you guys, uh, give us a second?” he asked, clearly talking to Dig and Roy, though his eyes never left her face. She saw the question in them, and nodded slightly in acquiescence before she even had the chance to think it through. Because with just one question in that soft, Felicity voice of his, Oliver had managed to cut through her recently-found resolve. But yet...she couldn’t say no. Whether it was just curiosity or...something more, she felt that she needed to hear what Oliver had to say.

As Roy and Dig murmured their agreement and shuffled out of the room, Felicity kept her gaze locked on Oliver’s. But it was different than earlier. This tension wasn’t negative, or painful per se. There was a bit of apprehension, sure, but mostly just...mild wariness and anticipation as they looked at one another. Felicity could sense that whatever it was Oliver wanted to say was important to him, so she waited patiently while he mulled over his words. It was his way, she knew, when he had something meaningful on his mind. The opposite of her tendency to babble and say whatever she was thinking; he chose his words (at least with her) carefully and precisely.

Finally, when the room was quiet and they had been standing, just looking at each other, for a while, Oliver broke eye contact. Looking down and licking his lips, he shifted his weight and Felicity couldn’t help but think that this nervousness looked out of character on him. She briefly wondered if maybe it had been a bad idea, agreeing to talk to him privately, but then he looked up and met her eyes again. His gaze was clear and open, affection with just a hint of longing directed right at her. She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat as Oliver opened and closed his mouth a couple times. Apparently settling on what he wanted to say, he spoke.

“You look great tonight,” he said softly, his eyes quickly roaming over her before meeting hers again. She felt herself flush under his obvious approval of her appearance, and this time it was her turn to shift her weight nervously.

“Thanks,” she replied, mirroring his soft tone. “Is that all? Because I really should -” she gestured towards the door, trying to keep her tone gentle. It wasn’t her intent to rub her date in his face, not anymore, but she also didn’t want to be late.

“No, I...um…” he stuttered through his words, once again betraying his nerves. If it had been any other time, and she wasn’t about to go on a date with someone else, Felicity would have been quite charmed by him. Oliver nervous was a sight to behold. “I just wanted…” he trailed off again and sighed, running his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. Felicity knew him well enough to know that he was frustrated with himself, for his seeming inability to get the words out. So she waited some more. 

“I wanted to tell you to have a good time. And not to worry about us tonight,” he finally managed to say, though he was no longer looking directly at her, but rather at a spot over her shoulder. “You - you deserve a night off. You deserve to have something that’s...yours. So. Have a good night, Felicity,” he finished, meeting her eyes quickly before looking away again. 

Once more Felicity found herself frozen in place. Because how was she supposed to respond to that? It was everything she wanted from him and at the same time everything she didn’t want from him. Half of her wanted to stalk over to him, grab his face in her hands and yell at him that she didn’t want something that was _hers,_ she wanted something that was _theirs._ But the other half of her...the other half felt her heart soar at the way he was respecting her decision, the way he was putting her above himself. And all of her just felt defeated. Because things like this? They just reminded her of everything she loved about him. And everything she couldn’t have.

So she did the only thing she could. She murmured a quiet thank you to Oliver, and retreated hastily up the stairs and out the door. Because she had a date. With someone who was _not_ Oliver Queen.

*** 

As Felicity stepped out of the restaurant into the clear night air, breathing in the welcome coolness that was following the earlier heatwave, she felt Scott’s hand settle against the small of her back and she turned to flash a smile at him. He was already watching her, a small smile playing on his lips as he guided them down the sidewalk towards the parking structure where they had both left their cars before meeting at the restaurant. 

Dinner had been lovely. Scott was everything he had claimed to be and more. He was attractive and charming. Confident without being cocky; sincere and engaging. The conversation had flowed between them effortlessly, with light, flirtatious glances and the occasional touch of their hands, or their feet beneath the table. It had been the perfect date.

So why couldn’t Felicity stop thinking about Oliver? About the look on his face when he had come into the Foundry just as she was talking about her date. About the tone of his voice when he told her to have a good night. About the feel of his lips against hers all those weeks ago. About his smell and his small smile and his eyes and….her mind was filled with Oliver Queen. And she felt guilty. Every single cell in her body felt guilty. Guilty for sitting across from an amazing guy while her thoughts were firmly fixed on another. And guilty for being out with someone else, when she knew, even if he would never say it, that it was hurting Oliver. She wanted it to be Oliver across from her, and yet she was smiling and laughing and flirting with Scott. And she felt like a terrible person. 

As Scott led her leisurely down the street, he removed his hand from her back and brushed his fingers against hers before tentatively taking her hand in his. Where she should have felt butterflies at the gesture, Felicity just felt more guilt. And then her guilt morphed into anger. Anger at herself for feeling guilty at all. And anger at Oliver. 

Why should she be the one to feel bad? He had made his choice, and he had made it loud and clear. She had given him the opportunity, not just on Lian Yu, but over the past few weeks, to tell her how he felt. To make a decision, one way or another. And...he hadn’t. He had avoided the subject entirely, never admitting anything, but never denying it, either. Beyond that, over the past few months, he had shown her time and time again that she wasn’t his choice.

He had slept with Isabel in Russia, and then used the excuse that he couldn’t be in a relationship. And then, he had _been in a relationship_ with Sara. Clearly Oliver had no qualms about being with someone else, despite knowing that Felicity had feelings for him. _He knew,_ she told herself. _He knew and he did it anyways._ She had given him chance after chance to change things between them, and he hadn’t. Lyla was right. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. With that thought, Felicity tightened her grip on Scott’s hand. She didn’t belong to Oliver. And she wasn’t going to feel guilty anymore.

Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity caught a flash of green and movement on the rooftop across the street. Like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, her entire body went cold. _No. He wouldn’t. Would he?_ She stopped walking and turned. And yes. Yes, he would. Because there was Oliver, standing on a rooftop in downtown Starling, hood up and mask on, watching her. Watching her walk down the street with her date. Their eyes locked for a long moment. And all the anger inside her coiled into a tight ball of rage. _How dare he?_  

Without stopping to think, Felicity spun around to face Scott. She tugged on his hand once and lifted herself onto her toes, pressing her lips to his. He responded instantly, letting go of her hand to bring both of his to settle on her hips. He deepened the kiss, but Felicity wasn’t thinking about anything other than the surge of anger and bubbling rage she was feeling. When Scott pulled back a few minutes later, looking at her with his lips parted and his eyes a little glazed over, she felt a wave of shame wash over her. 

“I’m...I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out. “I shouldn’t have...I should go…” And with that, she turned and darted towards her car, leaving Scott calling after her. Even as she made a beeline for the parking structure, she found herself glancing back at the rooftop. But Oliver was gone. 

When she finally made it to her car, she felt the hot sting of tears against her eyes. Willing them back, she shifted the car into drive and headed towards home as quickly as possible. She drove on autopilot, her mind a jumble of thoughts and her chest filled with so many emotions she couldn’t name them all. But above all else, she felt an overwhelming sadness. How had it come to this? 

She pulled into a spot near her door and stumbled out of the car, managing to get herself inside the house before the tears started to fall. She collapsed onto her couch, chest heaving as she cried. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want it to be like this. But she also didn’t know how to fix it. She couldn’t keep being Oliver’s doormat, catering to his whims and waiting around, hoping he would one day decide he wanted her enough to try. She had just run out on a great guy, with no explanation. She had treated him badly, kissing him out of nowhere, as a ploy. When she thought about it, she realized that she had basically done to Scott what Oliver had done to her. Of course the history made it so that the stakes weren’t quite as high, but still. She had used someone to make a point. And she didn’t like that she had sunk to that level. 

Everything was a mess. And Oliver had _followed her on her date._ That was just...it was just not okay.   

The wind blew through her curtains and Felicity realized that her window was open. Rising, she went over to push it shut. And couldn’t believe her eyes. Because outside her house, on the street, sat Oliver. He was on his Ducati, and he had shed his jacket somewhere along the way, wearing only his leather pants and a tight black t-shirt. His helmet was hiding his face, but she knew he was watching her. _Again._ But this time, Felicity didn’t feel anger, or rage. She just felt...exhausted. She was exhausted. He was playing with her emotions, whether he meant to or not. And she was tired of it. 

Pulling out her phone, Felicity stayed at her window as she tapped out a text. 

 _What are you doing here?_  

His reply came in seconds. 

 _I had to make sure you got home okay._  

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she purposely closed and latched her window, and then drew the curtains shut. She moved back to the sofa and sat down before she typed out a response. 

_Go home, Oliver._

She was done. 1000% done. No more soft words or emotional looks. She couldn’t do this with him anymore. She had tried to maintain some sort of friendship and had only ended up more hurt and confused than ever.

With a deep breath, Felicity scrolled through her contacts until she landed on Scott’s name. She could only hope that he would forgive her for running away and be willing to give her another shot. She hit send, and put the phone to her ear. 

“Hi, Scott. It’s Felicity. Listen - I’m really sorry…” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY. Don't hate me.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his determination to make things better with Felicity, Oliver had (for reasons not completely clear to even him) royally screwed things up when he had...innocently peeked in on her while she was on her date. The weeks since then have been torturous; she has been cold and distant, with no signs of hope for improvement any time soon. After trying to resign himself to this fate of his own making, Oliver attempts to use the team’s 4th of July BBQ to smooth things over, to be more open with Felicity about his feelings. He’s not quite prepared for the ferocity of her response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in with me guys. I promise, we're getting there. 
> 
>  
> 
> My undying thanks to dettiot and callistawolf for being them.

Oliver was an idiot.

 

Could it be considered personal growth and development for him to admit that, even if only to himself?

 

“Oliver, take a left up ahead, and then a right, and that should bring you up alongside them,” Felicity’s voice in his ear was brusque, matter of fact, and 100% all business.

 

And it was 100% his own damn fault.

 

If one were to ask him why, _why oh why,_ he had followed Felicity on her date just _days_ after deciding to make things better with her...he wouldn’t be able to answer with anything other than “it felt like the right thing to do.” He knew, logically, intellectually, that it had not in fact been the right thing to do. But it’s already been established, has it not, that Oliver has maybe just a tiny bit of a tendency to act on emotion - without necessarily thinking through the potential ramifications of said action?

 

As he accelerated and steered his bike according to Felicity’s directions, he half-listened to her guiding Dig and Roy from their points of contact, arranging them to all converge on their target simultaneously. The wind at his back, the adrenaline rush of the chase - they were freeing. This - this he was good at. This he could do.

 

“Dig, you’re gonna get there first, but Oliver and Roy are only about 30 seconds out,” Felicity narrated.

 

“Copy,” Oliver heard Dig’s response over the thrum of the bike’s engine revving with the increased speed he was forcing on it.

 

He had been aware of her date, mostly in the vague sense that Diggle had mentioned she wouldn’t be available that particular evening, and Oliver obviously knew about the online dating and the guy she had been writing back to and all that. So, sure. He had known. Though he had done his best to ignore it. But opening the door to his space, _their_ space, and hearing her say it out loud...that had been bad. It had floored him. And not in a good way. It had frozen him in his place; all he had been capable of doing was staring at her. And by the way she had stared back, he was certain every single thing he was feeling  - the pain, the longing, the hurt, and even the anger, no matter how unfair or illogical it was - had been clear as day. She had to know, after that staring contest, how he felt. She _had_ to.

 

Her own feelings, mostly confusion, marred by guilt and hurt, had been apparent to him. And it had twisted something inside him so painfully, so gut-wrenchingly hard, that it had forced his gaze from hers. She hadn’t done anything wrong here. She wasn’t the guilty party; she wasn’t to blame. So to see those emotions shining at him on her face, it had been like a dagger through his heart. Why was she suffering for things that were his fault? And wasn’t that just….the story of their entire relationship, now that he thought about it? She was always bearing the brunt of his actions, his behavior, his decisions.

 

“I’ve got you, Dig, I’ll be there in 10 seconds. Roy, take the other side so Dig can box them in from behind,” Oliver ordered as he caught sight of their target’s car. “Felicity,” his voice softening on her name without him even meaning it to, “Can you -”

 

“The SCPD are 3 minutes out. I’ve got it,” she cut him off testily.  

 

She had looked beautiful. It had made his heart ache even as he felt the rush of desire flow through him. Blood had rushed south as his mind flashed on an image of his hands pushing at the short skirt of her dress, sliding it up her thighs and over her hips. He had clamped down on it quickly, hoping she hadn’t been able to tell the direction of his thoughts. But then he had truly looked at her, and he had realized. She was all dressed up, hair and makeup done, for _someone else_. And it was his own damn fault. He had swallowed around all the emotions swirling in his chest and told her to have a good time, trying to show her he just wanted her to be happy. And _desperately_ trying to mean it.

 

And then she had been gone, out the door and - it had felt like - out of his life. He had tried so hard to push her out of his mind that night. He, Roy and Dig had checked out the locations her program had spit out before Oliver had called it an early night and sent them home. And then...much like the nights he had ended up outside her apartment, he had found himself where she was. Without even thinking about it. He had glanced at the app she had installed on all their phones which kept track of where they were - a safety measure, he knew, not at all meant for this purpose - and he had just….gone to the restaurant.

 

And he didn’t know why. Was he trying to torture himself? Maybe actually _seeing_ her with someone else would be what he needed to just move on from this. He couldn’t even claim it was for her own good, to make sure she was alright. Because he knew Felicity - he knew she had checked the guy out forwards and backwards and sideways. Hell, he knew _Lyla_ had checked him out, and was waiting by her phone in case Felicity needed a quick exit. But he had gone anyways. And had stood on that rooftop with a clear view in through the window, watching her laugh and talk with this guy as the knot in his own chest grew tighter and bigger.

 

And then, out on the sidewalk as she walked hand in hand with another man, she had seen him. Even with the distance between them - physically, as much as metaphorically - he had seen her eyes flash with anger and defiance. And then she had spun away and pressed her mouth against _Scott’s_ and everything had whited out in a hazy swirl of emotion. It had cut him. Deeply. It had hurt like he couldn’t have imagined. But before he could process it, she was running down the street alone, and he hadn’t so much as spared a glance at her date before Oliver had been jumping across rooftops, desperate to keep eyes on her. To know that she was alright and that his own stupidity and - yes - jealousy, wouldn’t end with her putting herself in some sort of danger.

 

The finality of her text that night...well, it had felt different than everything else. And the silence in the weeks that had followed was definitely different than the silence in the time after they had left Lian Yu. Despite his best intentions, he had lost her. He had screwed up, he had acted without thinking, _again,_ and he had lost his chance. And it hurt. So now, although she continued to be the voice in his ear, there was no warmth, no spark of anything else. But this time, this time Oliver knew what he had to do. And this time, he was taking the time to actually think it through. To plan, and mull over, because he wasn’t going to let his impulsiveness and recklessness screw this up. He had lost her. But he was going to get her back.

 

And as they rounded up yet another group of criminals, handing them over to the SCPD while barely breaking a sweat, there were no congratulatory or complimentary words exchanged. No charged moments with layers of meaning.

 

But it was okay. It was going to be okay. Because Oliver had a plan.

 

***

 

It was a perfect day. Gorgeous, blue skies with only a few white, fluffy clouds. Sun shining down - but not _too_ hot. A gentle breeze. Perfect day. Perfect for what Oliver had in mind. It was the perfect time to execute his plan. Everything was perfect.

 

Oliver was maybe a bit nervous.

 

As he made his way through the park - carrying _pies,_ he was carrying _pies -_ Oliver tried to quell those nerves. It was ridiculous, really. To be this nervous about a barbeque in the park with his small group of friends. _No,_ he thought, _his family._ With a pang, Oliver found himself missing Thea fiercely. If she was here...well, she probably would have told him weeks ago to stop being such an ass and just apologize to Felicity. She would have smacked him on the back of the head and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. Yeah. He missed Thea.

 

Shaking off his sudden melancholy, he walked towards the small section of the park they had reserved for their 4th of July BBQ, pies in hand, determined for everything to go perfectly today. Today - today he was going to fix things with Felicity. With that thought in mind, he picked up his pace a bit, eager to get the day started.

 

As he approached the area where they were all meeting, he heard squealing and then laughter. Laughter he recognized. Felicity’s laugh. He turned the bend and stopped a little ways away, wanting to observe for a minute before he made his presence known. Taking in the view in front of him, he saw Lyla lounging on a large blanket in the shade near a big tree. Dig was manning the small barbeque they had brought with them for the afternoon, flipping burgers over a little more flamboyantly than was strictly necessary, drawing laughter from his friends. There was a picnic table adorned with all the accoutrements necessary for the day - tomatoes, pickles, onions sliced neatly on plates, bottles of ketchup and mustard, bags of buns, cups, forks...all the trappings. Next to the table sat a large cooler, open to reveal cans of beer and a couple bottles of cheap white wine, along with water and soda, sitting in ice.

 

And the laughter he had heard before, the squeals of delight, were coming from Felicity. She was dressed in tiny denim shorts that showcased her legs, and a loose, flowing floral tank top. Her hair was down, a wild mess of curls trailing behind her as she ran around, dodging Roy as he aimed a large water gun at her and sprayed. Upon closer inspection (because he _could_ , since nobody had noticed him yet) Oliver could see spots of dampness on her shorts and shirt, indicating that she had been losing the water fight for some time already. She was a vision: stunning, even more so than when he had seen her all dressed up for her date. Seeing her like this, light and carefree and having fun, made his heart ache with longing and desire. It had been so long since she had been this way with him, and while he was glad for her that she was happy, it hurt that he wasn’t a part of that.

 

He supposed he should just be thankful that she hadn’t brought along a date to this little gathering. He was aware that she was still dating. He had overheard talk about another few dates with Scott before it had fizzled out, but she had been spending far less time in the Foundry, and when she wasn’t hanging out with Lyla or Roy, or working to build her consulting business, Oliver assumed (and later got confirmation from Dig and Roy) that she was out on dates. Nobody serious, Roy had assured him, but still. She was putting herself out there. Aggressively, it seemed.

 

“Oliver! You’re here!”

 

It was Lyla who had spotted him, and with her exclamation, the activity came to a stop. Diggle lifted a spatula in greeting, while Roy flashed a sloppy salute in his direction. Oliver waved, his gaze flicking to Felicity once again, but she was biting her lip and looking in Lyla’s direction. Determined to remain upbeat, Oliver simply made his way to the food table, arranging the food he had brought so that it fit in with everything else.

 

“I brought pie,” he said, turning to face the group and leaning back against the table.

 

“What kind?” Roy asked suspiciously, approaching the table and peering over Oliver’s shoulder.

 

“Blueberry, apple, and strawberry-rhubarb,” he replied. “They were fresh, according to the guy behind the counter at the bakery.”

 

“I love a good blueberry pie,” Lyla jumped in, pulling herself off the blanket and making her way to the cooler. “And isn’t strawberry-rhubarb your favorite, Felicity?” she added with a sly smile in the blonde’s direction. Oliver knew that, of course. That’s why he had called a couple days in advance and special ordered it.

 

“It is,” Felicity confirmed, and she met Oliver’s eyes for a second before she looked away again. He tried not to feel the sting of disappointment, but then she cleared her throat and met his eyes again, purposely this time. “Thanks, Oliver.”

 

He flashed her the biggest smile he could manage, and pressed his hands against his thighs to keep himself from doing something stupid like reaching out for her.

 

“It’s nothing,” he responded, softly, just like the last time he had said those words, after the Count had shot him and she had been worried. He watched her eyes go wide as the familiar words washed over her, and he imagined she was remembering the last time he had uttered them, too.

 

And then Roy handed Felicity a plastic cup of wine and the moment was broken. As Felicity and Roy started talking about the movie they had seen that weekend, Oliver turned towards the barbeque, where Dig and Lyla were standing side by side looking at him, matching knowing smirks on their face.

 

“Pie?” Diggle asked quietly, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. Oliver shrugged.

 

“What? Who doesn’t love pie?” He popped a pickle in his mouth as his friend and Lyla exchanged a look. “I couldn’t show up empty handed. That’s rude.”

 

“I’m glad you’re putting those years of etiquette lessons to good use, man,” Dig replied dryly. “Now how ‘bout you make yourself useful and grab me a beer?” Oliver obediently grabbed the other man a beer, snagging one for himself as well, before settling into one of the chairs set up around the barbeque.

 

The afternoon progressed lazily, with Oliver and Diggle taking turns as cook, keeping plates of burgers and hot dogs at the ready. A ball had emerged from somewhere, and Roy was kicking it around. Sometimes Dig joined him, and they had tried to get Oliver to play a bit too, but he was content to just watch and man the barbeque. Felicity flitted between her friends, taking a couple passes at the ball before going over to Lyla’s blanket and chatting animatedly with the other woman. It was relaxing, and fun.

 

And if Felicity had been mostly aloof and stand-offish with him, only really talking to him when there were other people involved in the conversation, it was alright. It was progress. Because they had been in the park for a good few hours now, and she hadn’t run off. This was the longest he had been in her presence in over a month. And it felt good. It felt great. Aside from her obvious conscious effort not to make eye contact since the pie exchange, it almost felt normal.

 

As the sun set and dusk settled, the barbeque was turned off in favor of pie and other sweets. A bottle of wine had been polished off, mostly by Felicity, and the energy level shifted within the group as they waited for the evening’s fireworks display to start. Roy’s friend Sin had joined them, and the two of them were lazily kicking the ball back and forth as they caught up on people Roy hadn’t seen in a while. Lyla was sitting in Dig’s lap on a lounge chair and they were murmuring quietly to each other. Which left Felicity, alone on Lyla’s blanket, lying back and gazing at the sky.

 

Oliver hesitated, watching her for a few minutes as he tried to decide what to do. This was his chance, he knew. He had come here today hoping for an opportunity to present itself, and now that it had, all the relaxation and ease he had been feeling evaporated. He was full of nerves once again. Taking a deep breath, Oliver realized it was now or never. He was committed to doing things differently, trying to be open with Felicity and show her that he had changed. And the first step was clamping down on his instinct to run, to bury all the feelings that were surfacing and just...ignore everything. But no. That would be the way the old Oliver would handle it. The Oliver he was trying to be had to face this head on.

 

With that thought fueling his courage, he poured another cup of wine and walked over to the blanket.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling Felicity’s attention from the night sky. She looked at him for a long moment before turning her eyes upwards again.

 

“Hi,” she replied, just as softly, no longer looking at him.

 

“Can I-” he stumbled over his words, nerves taking over. “Do you...mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside her with the cup. She shrugged.

 

“That depends,” she said, her eyes on the wine in his hand, “on what’s in the cup.”

 

He smiled and sat down next to her, handing her the cup of wine in lieu of actually replying. She pushed herself up to a seated position and took a long drink. He couldn’t help the way his eyes fell to her lips, watching her as she sipped leisurely.

 

“As far as peace offerings go, this is up there with the pie,” she told him, and he snapped his eyes back up, but she was still not making eye contact. He figured the wine was at least somewhat responsible for her acting more open with him than she had in a while.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind, for future reference.” He meant to say it lightly, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt her tense next to him. Mentally kicking himself, he hurried to keep talking; to say what he had intended to say. “Listen, Felicity. I wanted to...apologize,” he said.

 

That got her attention, and she finally turned to face him, eyebrows raised questioningly. She studied him for a minute before turning away again, taking another sip from her cup.

 

“For which thing?” she muttered.

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to say “all of it”, but he refrained. Because he was trying to do this right, and think things through. It would sound insincere for him to say he was sorry for everything. And he wanted to show her that meant it. That he had spent time thinking about it and reflecting on it. That he _knew_ what he was apologizing for. So instead he ignored her slight jab, and focused on what he wanted to tell her.

 

“I’m sorry for the...incident a few weeks ago,” he told her, too embarrassed to flat out say what he was referring to. He hoped she would let him off easy and not push it. She knew what he meant.

 

“The incident,” she repeated. “Right.” She turned back towards him again, setting her cup down next to her. “Why’d you do it?”

 

She looked right at him, her gaze piercing. He felt raw. And exposed. But this was good. This was what he wanted. She was looking at him. And listening. This was it. _Don't screw it up don't screw it up_ repeated in his head like a mantra. He swallowed hard and met her gaze.

 

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. She rolled her eyes and started to turn away again, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist, stilling her movement. Her breath hitched, and she looked down at his hand on her wrist and then back up at him. Was it his imagination, or were her eyes slightly darker? He knew he should let go, his brain was telling him to let go. But...he didn’t. He couldn’t. The warmth of her skin against his, that physical connection that he craved with her so badly...he didn’t want to let go. And more than that, he had to make her understand. “I just...I needed to make sure you were okay.”

 

Felicity shook her head and pulled her wrist out from his grasp. His hand felt cold and empty without her warm skin underneath it, and he tried not to let his face fall.

 

“I don’t need you to take care of me, or protect me, Oliver,” she said sharply.

 

“I know. I know that,” he assured her. But her look was disbelieving. He reached out again and took her hand in both of his. He couldn’t ignore the spark that ran through him when he touched her, or the way her tongue darted out quickly and wet her lips. Even though she was upset and angry with him, it seemed that she couldn’t control her body’s reaction to him any more than he could control his to her. “It wasn’t about _you_ needing _me,_ ” he continued. “It was about _me_ needing it. For myself. It’s...it’s my job to take care of the people I care about. And...I care about you.”

 

She just stared at him, her mouth open slightly, her eyes flickering back and forth a bit as she studied him. She didn’t say anything, and they sat like that for a few long moments, just looking at each other, her hand still in his. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he racked his brain for more to say. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to tell her at this point, but he felt this pressing need to fill the air between them with something...some words that would make it better.

 

“So...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for crossing that line, I know it was...too much, and it - it won’t happen again,” he rambled, desperate to convince her; desperate to wipe that sad, hesitant, unsure look off her face. “I just...I just want things to be like before.” As soon as he said the words, she looked away, and he knew he had said the wrong thing. When she looked back at him he could see tears shining in her eyes. _Fuck._ And then she once again pulled her hand away from him.

 

“That’s the thing, Oliver,” she said, her voice trembling a little, and damn it he felt like the biggest asshole in the world. “The way it was before? That didn’t work for me. It’s always been about what _you_ need. What _you_ want. I’ve spent almost two years living according to your needs and wants and your timeline and your version of caring about someone and I’m sick of it. So, I accept your apology for following me on my date. But it doesn’t change anything. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before.” She stood up, and as the fireworks lit up the sky above them, she walked away from him.

 

***

 

He had been roaming the streets of Starling for going on two hours. After Felicity had beat a hasty retreat from the barbeque, throwing quick goodbyes to their friends, he had numbly helped clean up, avoiding the questioning looks from Dig and Lyla. He had then said his own goodbyes and left, not wanting to get into it with anyone about what had happened between him and Felicity. But he hadn’t gone back to the Foundry. He hadn’t even gone back to his bike. He had just started walking. And he was still walking, two hours later.

 

He had gone into the day committed to making things better, to starting to mend what was broken between him and Felicity. But somehow, like usual, he had just managed to screw things up even more. His mind had played her words over and over again. _Your version of caring,_ she had said. And he knew exactly what she meant. It had been so long ago, he could almost pretend he didn’t remember telling her it was better for him not to be with someone he could really care about. But then, everything that had happened after that...finding out about Thea’s parentage, turning to Sara. How had he been so blind at the time? How had he not seen how it had looked to Felicity?

 

Frankly, he was a bit surprised it had taken her this long to walk away from him. He didn’t blame her. And even if he was to tell her now that he had meant what he said in the mansion, that his declaration of love had been true and real, why should she believe him? Or even care? He may be saying the words but...there was no action to back it up.

 

She was right. He was selfish. He was a selfish bastard. But he knew that. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t be with her. He was trying to change, though. Enough that they could at least be friends. He could ignore the sparks between them, he could get control of the envy and jealousy he felt when she went out with another man. He could curb his desire to be her knight in shining armor...he could do all that, if it meant she would be in his life.

 

He could even ignore the physical response he had to her. The way his body reacted when they touched...the way just the feel of her wrist made him swell with desire. Now that he knew what she tasted like, what she felt like when she sighed against his mouth - it was all he could think about sometimes. Especially when he touched her. Even the simplest graze of his fingertips against her wrist made him flash back to that kiss. To the way she had responded to him. To the overwhelming urge he had felt to just ignore everything going on and deepen the kiss. He knew in his bones that if the circumstances had been different, he never would have been able to stop with just that one kiss.

 

But he could, and would, ignore all that. If it meant she stopped shutting him out. He would ignore it.

 

Determined once again to not let the day end without making _some_ headway with Felicity, and ready to grovel at her feet if that was what it took, Oliver started to make his way back to his bike. He had begun the day with a plan, and just like out in the field, when a plan went bad...it was time to improvise. He was going to make Felicity see that he was changing; that he _had_ changed, and that he was worthy of her friendship. And he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. (Respectfully. He _respectfully_ wasn’t going to take no for an answer.)

 

He hopped on his bike and peeled out of his parking spot, heading straight to Felicity’s townhouse. He spent the ride there practicing what he would say, how he would show her that things would be different now. That he understood where they _(he)_ had gone wrong and he knew how to fix it. He drove through the city, as the late night fireworks dotted the skyline, a man once again with a plan and a renewed sense of purpose.

 

Arriving at Felicity’s home, he hopped off the bike and tore his helmet off as it was still powering down, and took her steps two at a time. Once at her door, he paused for a moment, catching his breath. He could do this. He _had to_ do this. So, without giving himself a chance to have second thoughts, he raised his hand...and knocked.

 

***


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After bolting from the barbeque when yet another conversation with Oliver had become too intense, Felicity is second-guessing herself. She can tell he’s trying...he’s making more of an effort to be open and emotionally available than she had ever seen from him.
> 
> But at the same time - she’s still holding onto the hurt and anger. Is it time to let that go and work towards rebuilding their friendship? Is that what Oliver wants...is that what she wants? Can she really continue to be just friends when she knows that her feelings run so much deeper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all still with me? I know this has been a bit of an angst-ride, but isn’t that just the way it is with these two? One step forward and about a dozen steps back? I consider this chapter a bit of a turning point...though it may not quite seem like it yet. Hang on to your hats, guys, because after this chapter things really start to happen for our favorite almost-couple. 
> 
> Thanks as always to dettiot and callistawolf for their perusal, beta-ing and being the best.

Felicity flew through her door, throwing her purse in the direction of her entry table, not really caring where it landed. She was fired up on adrenaline, anger...and another emotion she wasn’t really comfortable naming at the moment. She stalked back and forth through the main floor of her townhouse, from living room to entry, back and forth, just pacing as the emotions swirled around in her and her mind tried to make sense of everything she was feeling.

 

She replayed the events of the day over and over again in her mind...the sight of a nervous-looking Oliver arriving with pie, _her favorite pie..._ the respectful distance he maintained, while still throwing her quick glances throughout the day. The knot in her stomach that had felt a lot like longing as she watched him kick back and relax with Roy and Dig. Despite everything, seeing Oliver relaxed and easygoing and as close to happy as she could remember him being - it had made something swell inside her. She wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy. She had always believed that, even when he hadn’t. Even though she was pretty sure he still didn’t believe it.

 

And then the conversation. She had been a bit tipsy from all the wine, but the ridiculous amount of food she had consumed had helped her maintain at that tipsy place, rather than tumbling into full on drunk. Watching the sky darken, she had been unwinding and relishing a few moments of quiet when he had approached. She supposed she could blame the wine, or just the overall easy atmosphere of the day on why she had agreed to let him sit...why she hadn’t cut the entire exchange off at the pass.

 

She was still angry. Angry, and hurt, and confused. But she also missed him. So much. She had been working so hard, _so hard_ , to get over Oliver Queen. To move past this spot she seemed stuck in, where everything in her life led back to him. And he had been...respectful of that. He had seemed to understand, and he had kept his distance for a while. And then he had _followed her on her date._ What did that even mean? Why did he keep playing these games with her? He didn’t want to be with her, but he didn’t seem willing to let her go. And she just didn’t know what it all _meant._

 

So when he had sat down beside her, taken her hands in his, stumbled over heartfelt words of apology and caring...she hadn’t known how to respond. She hadn’t known if she should hold tight to the anger, and the resolve to move on...or if she should let it go. Let the walls start to crumble and just fall back into that space where she and Oliver were an undefined _something._ Maybe that was enough, for now. Maybe her whole attempt at moving on was futile anyways.

 

And the way her body responded to him. She paused in her pacing for a moment, to lean her head back against the wall and shut her eyes as she remembered his hand on her wrist, skin against skin. The crackle of electricity between them whenever they touched was enough to take her breath away. And she knew he felt it too, she had seen his eyes drop to her lips, had noticed how much darker his pupils were when their gazes met again. This pull between them was more than just an emotional connection; it was physical, too. Very physical, if her own body’s response was anything to go by. She could be angry, hurt, frustrated...it didn’t really matter, because his touch sent her blood boiling and her stomach clenching with want.

 

But then...then he had been talking about what _he_ needed, and she had realized that, for as much as she could tell he was trying...he still didn’t _get it._ He still wasn’t prepared to put his own needs and wants aside once in a while, for the sake of someone else. Maybe he never would be. So she had grabbed onto her anger like a lifeline, wrenching herself free of the hold he had on her - literally and figuratively - and hightailed it out of there like a bat outta hell. She had hopped in a cab and stewed in her anger the entire way home. And now here she was, back to stalking through her home like a tiger on the prowl, just simmering.

 

_How dare he...how dare he try to…_

 

_To what? To apologize? To change? To grow?_

 

And just like that, Felicity deflated. She sank onto her couch, her head in her hands, as her mind warred with itself. Or maybe it was her mind warring with her heart. She could tell...she knew that Oliver was trying to be better. _For her,_ her heart interjected, though her brain stubbornly refused to believe it.

 

She felt the anger drain from her body as she sat, tears welling up in her eyes. The entire situation was just...too much. She had been trying to take and keep control of the one thing she could - her own behavior. Because she couldn’t control her feelings, she couldn’t control _Oliver’s_ feelings, and she certainly couldn’t control how he acted. So she had kept her head held high, put one foot in front of the other, and moved forward.

 

In some ways she had been successful. Her friendships with Lyla and Roy continued to grow and blossom, and she was starting to build a solid client base for her consulting work. But in other ways….well. In just the one other way, she hadn’t been successful at all. Sure, she had _tried._ She had convinced Scott to go out with her again, and had seen him a few more times. There had even been a couple other dates with other respectable men. But every single date had felt like a betrayal. Both to the man she was with, because it wasn’t fair to lead someone on when she knew she had feelings for another, and to Oliver.

 

With a groan, Felicity swung her legs up onto the sofa and laid down along the length of it, throwing her arm across her face. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she had worked so hard to move on, and yet every time he looked at her a certain way, or said her name in _that tone_ of his, or touched her...she tumbled head first back to the mansion. Looking him in the eyes, hearing him utter the most important words a man can say to a woman...feeling his lips on hers. _Damn it_. She wasn’t over him at all.

 

So, now what? She had stormed away from the man when he was trying so hard to change, to grow. She could see it every day. Even if she wasn’t talking to him, she saw the changes he was making. The way he was trying to be more open with those around him. He was...lighter, somehow. And she was proud of him. Shouldn’t she reward his progress? Why was she still punishing him when he clearly knew that he had made a mistake? When he was so obviously trying to fix it….even if he didn’t quite know how? She could help him. She could be part of his growth.

 

But then...wouldn’t she be right back where she was after that night in the mansion? Loving a man who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, be what she wanted. What she needed. Would she be happy just being his friend? _Could_ she be?

 

Maybe. Maybe…now that she had Lyla, and was building her own business, and had interests and endeavors outside of being Oliver’s sidekick. Maybe she _could_ handle being friends. And maybe, over time, it would be enough, and she could truly move on and find someone else.

 

She didn’t know. She really, really didn’t know what to do. What the best course of action was. But she did know that she didn’t want to keep shutting Oliver out completely. He was important to her, and in the end, she just didn’t feel whole when he wasn’t a part of her life.

 

The other thing she knew? Well. She knew that she needed some more wine.

 

So she hauled herself up off the couch and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of cheap red and a glass, before turning to head back to the living room. As she walked down the short hallway that connected the two spaces, she heard a light knock. She froze, bottle and glass in hand, and turned to stare at her door.

 

She knew, with zero uncertainty, who was on the other side.

 

Felicity switched the glass and bottle so that they were both in one hand as she moved towards her door. She stopped for a minute, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. She really had no idea what to expect when she opened the door, but she knew that she didn’t like how they had left things. So with one more deep breath, she pulled the door open and found herself face to face with Oliver.

 

They stood for a moment, just looking at each other. Oliver’s hands were in his pockets and he was shifting his weight ever so slightly from foot to foot. He looked nervous, which was quickly becoming his default setting around her. It was this realization that spurred her to speak, this knowledge that somewhere along the line, the comfort and ease they had built up had evaporated.

 

“Hi,” she started, because really what else was she going to say?

 

“Hey,” he replied, flashing her a quick, anxious smile.

 

“Felicity, I -” he started to say, at the same time that she blurted out, “Do you want to come in?”

 

They both laughed, nervously, before Oliver nodded, and Felicity took a step back to let him in. She closed the door and turned to face him.

 

“I was uh, just gonna have a glass of wine. Do you...do you want one?” she offered.

 

She felt totally out of her element, unused to feeling so uncomfortable and awkward around Oliver. She figured he was here to try to smooth things over, or something like that, and while she still had plenty to say to him...she didn’t want to lead with anger and harsh words. She wanted him to know that she could see how hard he was trying, and that she appreciated it.

 

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Why not?” Oliver answered, surprising her.

 

Because he so rarely drank, Felicity knew that his agreement must have had to do with nerves. For what felt like the millionth time, Felicity found herself wondering how they had gotten here. To this uneasy, strange, tense place. And despite the hurt and anger she still felt, the pangs of sadness were so profound that she found herself wishing things could go back to the way they had been before. Which was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

 

With an internal groan of frustration at her own confusion, Felicity backtracked into the kitchen to grab another glass. She made her way back to the living room, Oliver trailing behind her, before setting the glasses down. After pouring some wine into both, she handed one to Oliver. Their fingers grazed ever so slightly as he took the glass from her, sending little sparks of electricity shooting through her. She gasped softly and pulled her hand away quickly, refusing to look Oliver in the eye.

 

She grabbed her own glass and made her way to the armchair on the opposite end of the room, sitting down and curling her legs up under her. She didn’t miss the way Oliver’s eyes dropped to her legs quickly, before he averted his gaze and sat down on the edge of the sofa, with his elbows on his knees and the wine glass cradled loosely in both his hands.

 

“I wanted to apologize - again,” Oliver said, his voice soft and his eyes firmly fixed on his wineglass. “I wanted to talk to you...to show you that I understand why you’re upset, and that I’m trying to...to do things differently,” he continued, still looking down at his glass. He scoffed then, a sarcastic sound that made Felicity tense up. She wanted to go sit next to him - she longed to comfort him. To put her hand on his arm and help him feel grounded. But she didn’t. He needed to get through this - whatever it was - on his own. So she stayed put, silently waiting to hear what he had to say.

 

He looked up at her finally, blue eyes boring into hers. He looked so earnest and sounded so sincere, her heart ached.

 

“But I screwed it up,” he said, after a moment. “I was trying to make things better and I just...I messed up. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Felicity. For...for everything. And I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it’s the truth. I -” he shrugged then, looking away, around the room, before meeting her eyes again. When he did, he looked determined. Like he had a goal, and he wouldn’t rest until he achieved it. “I miss you. I miss you, and I don’t want things to continue the way they have been.”

 

Felicity took a deep, shaky breath, and then brought her wine glass to her lips. She needed a moment to process everything he was saying. Oliver wasn’t one for big speeches, and yet twice in one day he had made the effort to tell her how he was feeling. To _apologize_.That alone was enough to rock her, but coupled with the intensity of his gaze, and the recent memory of his skin on hers...she felt overwhelmed.

 

Unfolding her legs from underneath her, Felicity leaned forward in her chair and set her wine glass down on the table. She was apprehensive, because what she wanted to say - what she _needed_ to say to him - was blunt, and bold, and more direct than either of them had ever been with the other about all the unspoken _stuff_ between them. But it had to be said, if they were ever going to move forward and try to mend what had been broken.

 

“I...appreciate that, Oliver,” she said slowly, keeping her gaze locked on his so that he could see the truth in her words. “I really do. But…” she continued, and watched as his shoulders slumped and he dropped his eyes, looking at the table in front of him. Despite her sudden urge to make things better for him, she soldiered on, determined to say what needed to be said. “But. Things were said...things were _done_ , Oliver. Things that - that can’t be taken back. Can’t be unsaid, or undone. Things that...things that hurt. Things that…” she took a deep breath, “things that gave, and then took away, hope.” There it was. If that didn’t make it clear to him...she didn’t know what would.

 

Oliver lifted his eyes to meet hers again, and this time they were filled with pain, and regret, two emotions that she had seen often in his eyes over the past few months.

 

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he said, his voice low and sad, with just a hint of desperation. “I can’t tell you how...how sorry I am. I never wanted - I never wanted things to change like this. I never, ever, meant to hurt you, or make you...doubt what you - how important you are. I know this is my fault, that I did this. But I just - I never meant for things to be thrown so off-kilter by everything.”

 

Felicity sighed and fiddled with her wine glass, spinning it around on the table in front of her.

 

“Oliver...you can’t just, you can’t put things out there like that. You can’t say things like...like what you said, you can’t _do what you did,_ and just expect everything to be exactly the same!” Her voice rose as she spoke, her anger coming in as the words rushed out of her. Even as the words poured out, she realized that she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it out loud. To acknowledge the _I love you_ and the kiss with actual words.

 

“You may be able to just...say things and do things like that, Oliver, and walk away like nothing happened,” she said, trying not to notice the way he flinched at her words, “but not everyone can. And it’s not fair of you to expect them to.”

 

She watched Oliver closely as she finished speaking, waiting to see how he would respond to her - she was finally calling him out on everything that had happened, and she had no idea how he was going to react. The Oliver of a couple months ago? He would probably retreat, cover up, disengage from the conversation. But if he was trying, really trying, the way he said he was? Then maybe he would surprise her.

 

She watched as he fixated on a spot on the wall across the room from him, nodding slightly as his mouth set in a hard line. He swallowed, and she watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in the column of his throat. And then he turned back towards her...and, putting his glass down on the table, he surprised her by sliding over on the sofa so that he was sitting as close to her chair as possible, their knees almost touching perpendicularly.

 

And then he _really_ surprised her.  

 

“I know,” he said, softer than she had ever heard his voice. No, that wasn’t true. She had heard him sound like this once before. When he had stood in front of her in the mansion, having just kissed her, and asked her if she understood. Before handing her a syringe of mirakuru cure.

 

Now it was her turn to swallow hard. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she wasn't completely sure she had heard him correctly.

 

"What?" she croaked, her voice cracking around the dryness in her throat.

 

Oliver scooted forward on the sofa so that their knees bumped, and Felicity looked down at where their legs were touching. Then, to add to the theme of shocking the hell out of her, he reached out and took both her hands in his. The little sparks of electricity she had felt earlier were back, and she felt them travel through her body. His thumbs rubbed softly against her skin as she stared dumbly at him; she was certain her mouth was hanging open.

 

"I know it wasn't fair," he continued, his voice still soft and low and sincere, "what I did. What I said, and expecting things to be the same after. It wasn't fair. I just...I want to be better, Felicity. I want to be someone who-" he cut himself off and glanced away for a second, before looking back at her. "I just want to be better. But I can't do it without you. I need...I need your help. Please, Felicity."

 

Needing a break from the intensity of the moment, the intensity of his words and his gaze and his touch, Felicity pulled her hands from his and moved over a little, just so that their knees weren't quite touching anymore. She took another long sip of her wine and then sat back in her chair. She rubbed her palms against her thighs, and watched as Oliver’s eyes again dropped to her legs. She flushed, and let out a squeak of surprise. His eyes snapped back to hers, and the dark, almost hungry look made her tongue dart out to wet her lips, causing Oliver’s eyes to snap to her mouth. The air in the room seemed to shift, from intense and tense to...well... _charged_ with something else. Another kind of tension.

 

Oliver leaned forward, it seemed almost unconsciously, his gaze still on Felicity’s mouth. She felt herself start to lean in towards him as well, her body acting of its own accord. And for a split second, as they both moved in what felt like slow motion towards each other, Felicity was absolutely sure he was going to kiss her.

 

And then he snapped out of it, clearing his throat and shifting his weight back on the couch a little, as his gaze moved from her mouth, to her eyes briefly, before fixing on the coffee table.

 

Felicity picked her wine glass up and sloshed the contents around a bit, to give herself some time to feel less off kilter. When she was almost sure she could speak without her voice shaking, she took a small sip and replaced it back on the coffee table.

 

“I...I don’t know what to say, Oliver,” Felicity said softly, because it was the truth. She had no idea how to respond to that. He had said he needed her before...but he had meant in the lair, as part of his team. This felt different. Was it - could it be possible...was he saying he _needed_ her like -

 

But no. That couldn’t be it. Because Oliver had, with his actions - or non action as the case may be - made it very clear that a romantic relationship was not in the cards for them. Yet, she wasn’t imagining the way he looked at her. She wasn’t imagining the look in his eyes. But, he couldn’t be making a declaration of...No. Those were only made for the sake of cameras and madmen and plans to save the city.

 

So what _was_ he trying to say?

 

Oliver must have taken her words and the following silence negatively, because he shifted closer again and took one of her hands back in his.

 

_All this hand holding could really start to confuse a girl,_ Felicity thought. _Start? Hell, we’re at like level thirty confusion by this point. What’s a little hand holding when thrown in with fake I love you’s and kisses and following people on dates?_

 

“Felicity,” Oliver murmured, drawing her attention out of her thoughts and back to him. “You are...you’re one of the most important people in my life. These past few weeks...I don’t ever want things to be like that between us. I know it was my fault. But you’re - you’re my closest friend. I want that back, and I’m hoping you do, too,” he finished, looking into her eyes.

 

This was it, Felicity knew. This was where she could maintain control of the situation. She could tell Oliver that he had gone too far, pushed too much, and that she didn’t want to be friends.

 

Or. She could tell him how she felt. Why was she waiting around for _him_ to make some big declaration? Why didn’t she just...tell him how she felt about him? That she wanted more than just friendship?

 

But...no. Neither of those was really an option. Because the truth was...she had missed him, too. She didn’t want to push him out of her life for good. He was _her_ closest friend - him, and Dig, and Roy, and now Lyla. But Oliver had a special place in her heart, and she didn’t want to give that up.

 

And telling him how she felt? She just wasn’t prepared for the very likely possibility that it would end in rejection. It wasn’t even the rejection she was scared of, per se. It was the way things would be irrevocably changed afterwards...for good. Right now - right now it was Oliver trying to make amends. At least she had never fully revealed the depth of her feelings for him. In that way, she was still protecting herself. They could go back to being friends, if she decided to. But if she told him she was in love with him...there was no way things would ever be the same. And she was pretty sure the changes wouldn’t be for the better.

 

But the last few weeks, keeping her distance, freezing him out, holding on to her anger...it had been exhausting. And stressful. And hard. She missed their closeness and comfort. She missed _him._ So maybe it was time to stop punishing him. And herself. He was really, truly trying. And she wasn’t a petty or spiteful person. She was proud of him, and she wanted to be part of his life again. And have him as part of hers.

 

“I do,” she said softly, squeezing his hand with hers. “I do want that back, too. I miss you.”

 

A wide smile broke out on Oliver’s face, and Felicity felt her heart stutter at the sight. It was like his entire demeanor changed. His body relaxed, his face softened, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. He looked...happy. Really, truly happy. Because of _her._ Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself smiling back, unable to help herself. They sat there for a long moment, her hand still in his, just smiling at each other.

 

And then Oliver stood, pulling her with him. Before she knew what was happening, he had wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her against him. It took her a minute to process that Oliver was hugging her. A full bodied, tight, warm embrace. But when she did, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him back, turning her face so that her cheek was pressed against his chest.  

 

For a while they stood like that, in each other’s arms. The intimacy did not escape Felicity’s notice, and she did her best to keep contained the kaleidoscope of butterflies that had taken flight in her stomach. Instead, she focused on breathing in the familiar scent of him, enjoying how right it felt to be like this with him.

 

When she decided that they had probably overstepped the appropriate length of friendly hugs by, like, a lot, Felicity pulled back. Oliver’s arms slowly dropped from her back, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at her.

 

“So…” he said, quirking one eyebrow just a little. “Friends?”

 

Felicity swallowed around the painful lump in her throat at the word ‘friends’, reminding herself that this was what she wanted. This was good. It was going to be good. So she smiled back at Oliver and nodded.

 

“Friends.”

 

***


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that things are looking up for his relationship -- friendship -- with Felicity, Oliver is working hard to show her that he’s changed, that he’s more open and available and aware of her wants and needs. They’re spending almost all of their time together, and it’s easy and comfortable and fun. But while being the best friend possible to her, he’s starting to realize that he wants this with her. All the time. As more than friends. And if the knowing looks from Roy and Diggle are any indication, he isn’t exactly being subtle about it. But convincing Felicity to give their friendship another shot was one thing. How is he going to prove to her that he’s ready to be the man she deserves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to the amazing dettiot for beta-ing and callistawolf for reading and cheerleading!

“Oliver? Earth to Oliver!”

 

Felicity’s voice snapped Oliver’s focus away from the spot on the wall he had been staring at as his mind wandered, and back to her. She was smirking at him from across her dining room table, the fork in her hand paused in the air.

 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out,” he said with a rueful smile. “What were you saying?” Felicity’s smirk widened into a grin.

 

“I noticed. I asked you to pass the lo mein like three times,” she responded, setting her fork down and resting her chin in her hand. She tilted her head slightly and looked at him appraisingly. Whereas there was a time when her searching gaze would have unnerved him, now he found himself enjoying her eyes on him - he liked being the focus of her attention. For too long she hadn’t spared him more than the occasional quick glance. Now, things were changing. For the better. “What’s on your mind? Anything you want to talk about?” she continued, watching him thoughtfully.

 

Oliver didn’t respond immediately. Truthfully, his thoughts weren’t anything earth shattering. He was just thinking about how right it felt, being here with her. How much he had been enjoying the past couple weeks since they had talked and decided to put the anger and hurt and tension behind them in order to rebuild their friendship.

 

Over the last few weeks they had quickly taken to spending the majority of their time together. When Oliver had filled Felicity in on his work to become more business-savvy and knowledgeable about what it really took to run a multinational conglomerate like QC, she had insisted he relocate from the library to her home, so that she could help him. Her dining room table had become their office space and they spent hours working separately and together. He was in awe of her:  as she had effortlessly transitioned from IT expert, to executive assistant, and now she was starting her own consulting firm. While it was a bit slow going (something that he blamed himself for, and she staunchly refused to let him blame himself do so), she was making headway and her client list was growing.

 

He passed her the lo mein, watching as she scooped some onto her plate, before he answered.

 

“Nothing in particular, just feeling especially grateful for you today.”  He smiled again, and reached out to cover her free hand with his own. She gave him a small, almost shy smile in response, turning her hand over to give his a quick squeeze. “You’ve been so helpful and I...I don’t deserve you. But I’m really glad you’re here.”

 

“Oh, Oliver,” she sighed. It didn’t escape his attention that she had not released his hand, but instead had twined their fingers together for a better grip. “I hate when you say things like that. I mean, I appreciate the thanks, believe me. But when you talk about not deserving things...I just…” she trailed off, and her gaze settled somewhere on the wall behind him, brow furrowed.

 

In between taking calls, meeting with potential clients, and saving businesses from her laptop at her table, Felicity had still found the time to help him. She showed him what to focus on, quizzed him, and even gave him small assignments. She was a natural teacher and leader, gentle and guiding without being overbearing. He found that he enjoyed learning and studying under her. And he very much enjoyed the pride on her face and in her voice when he made progress. She kept assuring him that when the time came for the board to meet, there would be no question that he was the best person to run his family’s company. And he was starting to believe her.

 

The routine they had settled into was so easy and domestic, it made something in his chest ache with the rightness of it. He would come by her place sometime mid-morning, bringing coffee and pastries with him. They would share a leisurely breakfast before getting to work. He had learned that Felicity without an actual job was not really a morning person - more than once he had found her in a harried state, still in her pajamas with a toothbrush in her mouth when she answered the door. He liked those mornings best. He got to see her putter around sleepily, making herself ready for the day. He would sit on the couch, sipping his coffee and trying not to let on that he was watching her, tracking her movements. If he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, he could very easily imagine the entire scenario happening under different circumstances. _Not_ platonic circumstances.

 

After breakfast and coffee and small talk, during which Felicity inevitably and without fail told Oliver he had to stop sleeping on the floor of the Foundry, they would settle in to work. Sometimes Oliver took his book or assignment out onto her small patio, particularly if Felicity was fielding phone calls. Occasionally they would break for a walk outside, to get some fresh air or stretch their legs. Usually it was Oliver insisting, because Felicity had a tendency to get totally lost in her work and not come up for air.

 

Lunch was either takeout or delivery at her table, or, if they weren’t too busy they would grab a sandwich and eat in the park, or at one of the cafes near Felicity’s townhouse. The afternoons brought more work, though Oliver would usually cut out early to go get in some training or exercise. Felicity would meet up with him and the others later in the evening, and their nightly activities would commence. The atmosphere in the Foundry was much less tense, more congenial and overall just _better._ Roy and Dig had most definitely noticed, but so far had managed to limit themselves to knowing smirks and eyebrow raises.

 

Oliver had made a point of telling Felicity that he didn’t want their repaired friendship to take away from her new closeness with Lyla (he had left out Roy, but that was totally just an oversight.) So there were some occasions where Oliver was left to his own devices while Felicity had lunch or got her nails done with Lyla. But for the most part, his days were full of Felicity. Just the way he liked it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, because he felt like if he apologized twenty times a day, it still wouldn’t be enough to make up for all the shit he had put her through over the years. “I didn’t mean to upset you, or make things heavy. I’m just...glad we’re here. And I appreciate all your time and help.” He squeezed her hand this time, trying to make her look back at him. It worked, and when she did meet his eyes, he gave her the biggest smile he could manage. She smiled back, and when she pulled her hand away to brush some hair from her face, he tried to stifle the disappointment he felt.

 

“So,” he said brightly, trying to turn the conversation onto more light-hearted things. “I thought maybe today I could go over the last couple years of expenditure reports from some of our smaller departments, see where funds could be better allocated in the future?”

 

Felicity’s eyes brightened and she clapped her hands together, licking her lips. He couldn’t help how his eyes dipped to follow the movement, but he snapped back to her eyes quickly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. He shifted minutely in his chair, trying to ease some of the pressure of his suddenly just-a-bit-too-tight pants. But Felicity seemed totally unaware of his...unease...because she was already flipping through papers and making piles for him.

 

It still surprised him how easily she turned him on. His thoughts towards her had been less than platonic for a while, but now that they were so close and open and spending so much time together...well. It seemed that all it took was a look, a small action, a tone of voice or tilt of her head, to make his pants uncomfortable and the temperature in the room soar. He knew she wasn’t immune, either. He had caught her looking at his mouth, seen her eyes darken, watched the flush creep over her chest on more than one occasion. And he liked it.

 

“Okay,” she said, handing him one of the piles. “If you start here, you’ll probably get a good idea of…”

 

And as Felicity launched into her directions and suggestions, Oliver leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to imagine a life that looked a lot like this, but one where his days ended with him in her bed, and not on the floor of the Foundry.

 

***

 

“Good work tonight, Roy,” Oliver said as they descended the stairs behind Dig. That evening’s attempt to round up some gang members who had been targeting small businesses in the Glades had been successful and relatively easy, and the mood heading back to the Foundry was light and positive.

 

Because they had finished early, Oliver was hoping to invite himself over to Felicity’s, maybe watch a movie and have some late night pizza. The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. He was aware that he was venturing very, very close to dating territory, but the thought didn’t freak him out as much as it had only a couple months ago. So he picked up his pace down the stairs, eager to get started on the second half of the night.

 

And stopped short when he saw Felicity standing behind her chair, a smile on her face and her purse slung over her shoulder as she greeted them. She looked ready to go...to leave.

 

Oliver’s heart sank.

 

They had been spending so much time together, and she hadn’t taken any nights off from their Arrow-related work in the past few weeks, so Oliver had just assumed that she wasn’t dating anymore. He hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered any information. In fact, it was a topic they steadfastly avoided. He was happy assuming she wasn’t seeing anyone else. Not that she was _seeing_ him, not like that ( _not yet_ , the voice in his head interjected).

 

But still. The sight of her, looking pretty in a short dress, with her hair back in a high ponytail and bright pink lips that were thoroughly distracting...Oliver clenched his hands into fists and stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at her, trying to quell the panic he could feel starting to rise.

 

She couldn’t be going on a date. Could she? Not with...not with how they had been recently? But really...how had they been? They were friends, just like they had agreed. She had never said she wasn’t dating. He had just assumed. And now - now she was ready to go out, possibly with some other man. What if...what if this was the date, the guy, who clicked for her? The guy who she wanted to keep seeing...who she was willing to leave this life for. Leave _him_ for.

 

Oliver took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from letting the panic take over.

 

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice coming out sharper and far more accusatory than he had intended.

 

Her gaze swung to his and her smile dropped. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she took a step towards him before seemingly catching herself. She looked over at Dig and Roy quickly before looking back at him.

 

“Um,” she said uncertainly, and the knot that was forming in his chest tightened. He was trying so hard not to be an asshole, but apparently it was his default when confronted with any sort of obstacle towards getting what he wanted. “I was going to go have a late dinner and hang out with Lyla, since we finished early? Was that not….did I do something wrong?” She sounded confused, uncertain, and more than a little defensive. Rightfully so, because he had been totally out of line.

 

Nonetheless, the knot in his chest unraveled completely, and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that whooshed out of him. Apparently the others didn’t miss it, because he heard the unmistakable sound of Roy snickering, and Felicity raised an eyebrow in Oliver's direction.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking a few steps closer to her and ignoring the feel of Roy and Dig’s eyes on his back. “That was...rude of me. Of course you should go hang out with Lyla. I just -” he stopped, not wanting to embarrass himself or reveal how much he had been hoping to spend the night with her. But then he had remembered his promise to her, to try to be more open. So he pushed through, stepping even closer to her. “I had hoped maybe we could get some pizza, watch a movie or something. That’s all.”

 

Felicity’s face softened immediately, and she reached out to wrap her hand around his forearm lightly. He sucked in a breath and looked down at her small hand, bright blue nails standing out against the dark leather of his jacket. He licked his lips, and when he looked back up, Felicity’s eyes were on his mouth. The air in the room felt thicker, suddenly, even more so when Felicity dragged her eyes back up to his and he saw how much darker they were than usual. Was it his imagination, or had she leaned in a little closer to him? He raised his free hand to settle it on her shoulder, but before he could make contact, a throat cleared behind them.

 

Felicity dropped her hand from his arm and took a step backwards, pasting a bright smile on her face. Oliver was left standing, his hand in the air, watching as her cheeks reddened and she looked over at the other two men.

 

“Well, uhh,” Felicity stammered, and Oliver was reminded how cute and appealing he found her when she was flustered. “Lyla is waiting, so, I’m just gonna...go...but,” she swallowed, and once again met Oliver’s eyes. He smiled at her and watched as her body relaxed. She walked towards him, and as she passed him, she patted his chest. “Raincheck? On the pizza and movie?” she asked as she started up the stairs.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, turning to watch her as she left. He knew he had a bit of a dopey grin on his face, but he just couldn’t help it. “That sounds great.”

 

With one last smile in his direction, she was gone. Oliver sighed, delaying turning to look at his friends, knowing exactly what he would find. And when he did finally turn around, he found his expectations met, and then some.

 

Roy was openly grinning at him, his eyes shining with suppressed laughter as he leaned against the med table, hands in his pockets. Dig, on the other hand, wore a blank expression on his face, save for an annoyingly knowing raised eyebrow to match his crossed arms, in a very familiar display of the essence of Diggle. Oliver sighed again and attempted to ignore his friends by moving towards the bathroom without saying anything. Roy, however, was having none of that.

 

“Dude,” he said, the barely suppressed laughter bubbling up into his voice, “I’m gonna start calling you ‘Heart Eyes Queen’.”

 

Oliver didn’t respond, but he did pause to look over his shoulder and level a glare at the younger man. Roy raised his hands in mock surrender, palms facing forward as he straightened up.

 

“I’m just saying,” he continued, apparently not at all caring that Oliver wasn’t amused and _was_ still full of adrenaline from the easy bust earlier. “That was a pretty impressive display of unacknowledged feelings of affection and jealousy.” At Roy’s choice of words, Oliver turned fully to face him, folding his own arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow. “What? You expecting me to comment on how obvious it is that you wanna bang -”

 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Oliver growled, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards Roy.

 

“Hey, no disrespect,” Roy defended himself, at the same time as he started moving towards the stairs in quick retreat. “I adore Blondie, and so do you, obviously. And I mean, it’s not like the feeling isn’t mutual. With you and her, I mean…”

 

As he started climbing the stairs, Roy shook his head and smirked. “What’dya know? Looks like she’s rubbing off on all of us. I mean...not _rubbing off..._ you know what? I’m just gonna go. But hey, Oliver...” And suddenly, Roy was serious, pausing on the landing to look directly at Oliver. “You need to do something about it, or you need to cut this shit out. It’s not fair to her.”

 

And as Roy pulled the door shut after him, Oliver found himself, for the second time that night, standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring after someone and at a loss for words.

 

“He’s not wrong, man,” Dig said as he walked over to where Oliver was standing. “I mean, it’s cute and all, watching you pant after her like a puppy.”  Dig gamely ignored Oliver’s huff of indignation.  “But how long are you planning to carry on like this?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oliver replied flatly.

 

Dig shook his head and moved back across the room, perching on one of the stools near Oliver’s quiver case.

 

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. You two have been spending a hell of a lot of time together lately,” Dig said.

 

“So? We’re friends, she’s helping me with the business stuff,” Oliver responded, not willing to acknowledge what he knew his friend was trying to say.

 

“Oliver, you spend probably eighteen hours a day with Felicity. You nearly took her head off when you thought she was going on a date, and when you figured out she wasn’t, your entire body relaxed. You have this dopey as hell expression on your face whenever anyone even _mentions_ her name, and don’t even get me started on what you look like when she’s actually around. So don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about.” Dig punctuated his speech by fixing his gaze on Oliver.

 

Oliver was somewhat surprised that he found no judgment on his friend’s face, but rather simply curiosity, concern, and understanding. Rolling his shoulders, he walked over to where Dig was sitting and sat down on the stool next to him. He shook his head slightly when he realized that he was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

 

“What do you want me to say?” he questioned. “Yes, I have feelings for her. I have for a while. But she only _just_ let me back in. Only recently agreed to even let me be her friend again. I don’t want...I don’t want to ruin anything by pushing too hard or too fast,” Oliver admitted.

 

“So you admit that you do eventually want more than friendship with her?” Dig asked.

 

Oliver shrugged, not yet ready to actually voice his answer to that question.

 

“Listen, Oliver. Remember our conversation a few weeks ago? The one where you were so sure that you couldn’t be with her? That it was better for everyone if you kept your distance?” Oliver nodded, and Dig continued. “Look at how far you’ve come since then. Hell, man, you’re practically dating her already. I mean - like I said. You’re with each other _all the time._ You eat all your meals together...it’s not that big of a jump from here to...well. To whatever it is you want to happen next,” he finished.

 

Dig stood up, and Oliver looked up at him, unsure how to respond.

 

“Just think about it, Oliver. She’s already in your life in every way. You already care about her. What do you have to lose by telling her you want more?”

 

As his friend walked away, Oliver was left contemplating his words. He _did_ want more. God, he wanted everything with Felicity. He wanted exactly what they had now, but with permission to touch her and kiss her and stay the night. He wanted to tell her how he felt and hear her tell him back.

 

But he had fucked things up so badly. Sure, they were rebuilding their friendship. But it was one thing for Felicity to let him in as a friend. Would she be willing to let him into her heart, too?

 

The only way to know, Oliver decided, was to try.

 

***

 

It was another week before the opportunity for that raincheck he was promised to arise. Petty criminals had been busy in Starling, meaning Team Arrow ( _well, what the hell else was he gonna call them?)_ had been busy, too. But finally, they had been granted a reprieve with an easy night that had ended early.

 

Oliver was sharpening his arrows while Felicity worked on updating some of her programs. Roy had left a few minutes earlier, claiming he was excited to “look at faces that don’t belong to the three of you, no offense,” and Dig was in the shower. Trying to think of a way to broach the subject of pizza and a movie, Oliver was startled when Felicity said his name, and he looked up to find her standing directly in front of him.

 

“Sorry, I was uh...in the zone,” he said lamely. A small smile played at Felicity’s lips as she eyed him curiously.

 

“You seem to be ‘in the zone’ a lot lately. Everything okay?” she asked.

 

This was his opening, he knew, to tell her that he had been thinking about her offer for a raincheck. But apparently his mouth didn’t agree. Nor did it seem to remember that he used to be able to talk to women...flirt with them, even, without much effort at all.

 

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine. Just...you know. Stuff on my mind.” Not quite the smooth invitation he had been hoping to extend. But Felicity’s face softened into sympathy and understanding, and Oliver only had a moment to be confused before she spoke.

 

“I know it must be hard for you, with Thea...elsewhere,” she said, and it shouldn’t have caught him by surprise that she knew what was bothering him even better than he did. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Felicity reached out and covered one of his hands with her own, squeezing gently before she released it.

 

“Well, since things are pretty quiet here, I guess I’ll get going. I’ve got a bottle of wine and a Netflix queue with my name on them,” she said ruefully. She made to turn away but paused then, and looked at him again.

 

He knew he should say something, anything, to get her to stay, or to take him with her, but he just...couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate with his brain. “Unless…” she trailed off, looking away for a minute and biting her lip. His heart jumped into his throat. Was she going to - “Never mind,” she said quickly, shaking her head and looking back at him with a wan smile. “Have a good night, Oliver.”

 

And then she was gone, and Oliver was kicking himself for not speaking up, not asking her what she had been about to say, not suggesting they split that bottle of wine. Why couldn’t he do this? He had been with countless women, and never before had he found himself unable to even ask someone out.

 

But he knew the answer. He knew that this...she...just meant _more_ , and he couldn’t seem to make himself step over the ledge he was standing on.

 

“Man, what are you still doing here?” Dig said from behind him. Oliver turned around to look at his friend, who pointed to the staircase. “Get off your ass and go get your raincheck!”

 

Oliver didn’t move for a second, and then, without so much as a word in Dig’s direction, he was bounding up the stairs as quickly as possible, smiling a bit when he heard Dig muttering something that sounded a lot like “stubborn, pig-headed, piece of…”

 

Once outside, he hopped on his bike, racing through town to Felicity’s house. He managed to close the gap between them so that he pulled up just as she was unlocking her door. Hearing the roar of his bike, she turned towards him, surprise evident on her face.

 

“Oliver, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

 

Oliver slid off the Ducati and took his helmet off, taking a few steps towards her stoop before responding.

 

“I thought...I thought maybe we could do pizza and a movie tonight? That is...if you don’t mind the company. I mean, if you just want to be alone, it’s fine, I just thought -”

 

“Oliver!” Felicity (thankfully) interrupted him, a grin spreading across her face. “That sounds great. Come on in, I’ll pour us some wine, you order the pizza.”

 

With a grin to match hers, Oliver followed Felicity inside, setting his helmet on the table and toeing off his shoes. His heart was racing a bit, and he wiped his palms on his jeans before pulling out his phone to call in the pizza order. With easy familiarity, he ordered Felicity’s favorite, settling himself on the sofa and accepting the glass of wine she offered when she returned from the kitchen.

 

She settled in next to him and started talking about the movie options, scrolling through her Netflix and pointing out which ones she thought he might like. He couldn’t really focus on her words, not with her sitting so close to him, and smelling so good, so he just nodded along, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He must have made a sound of agreement to one of her suggestions because a movie soon started up. Felicity leaned back in her seat, and her hair brushed Oliver’s arm where it was stretched out on the back of the couch. She tucked her feet up under her, which resulted in her entire body shifting a little closer to his. Oliver felt like a teenager again. He could barely pay attention to the screen. All he could think about, all he could feel and see and smell, was her body next to his.

 

He ached to pull her closer. To wrap himself around her. To brush his lips across her jaw, her lips, down her neck. He felt the telltale tightening in his pants and shifted a little in his seat, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want _her_ to move an inch. It was the sweetest torture he could imagine, sitting so close to her but not being able to do anything other than enjoy the proximity.

 

At one point the movie was paused for pizza, and when Felicity restarted it, they settled back into their seats. This time, though, Felicity leaned in even closer to him, curling up against his side. He let his arm wrap around her shoulders, his hand coming to rest on her arm, his thumb stroking the bare skin there lazily.

 

 _This is it_ , Oliver thought. _This is what I want._

 

When the credits started to roll, Oliver shifted in his seat so that he could look at Felicity. He had been psyching himself up for the last hour, trying to decide what he was going to say. How he was going to tell her how he felt: that he wanted to be with her. But then he looked down at her, curled against him, sleeping like a baby. Her face was soft and relaxed and she looked completely content.

 

Though he thought he maybe should be disappointed that he had worked himself up in preparation to make this big reveal about his feelings, only to have the chance pass him by, he found himself only feeling content and at peace, happy that she felt comfortable enough with him to literally fall asleep on him.

 

Oliver just watched her for a few minutes, letting himself feel everything he had been pushing down for so long. He looked at her and he knew, he just knew, that this was going to be it. If she would let him, he was going to spend a very, very long time showing her exactly how much she meant to him.

 

With that thought, he carefully slid out from beside her, gently guiding her to lie down on the sofa and covering her with the throw blanket she kept in the corner. He gently removed her glasses and put them on the coffee table before taking the empty pizza box and wine glasses into the kitchen. He tidied up a little, jotted a quick note to Felicity, which he placed under her glasses, and then turned back to look at her again. After only a second’s hesitation, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, lingering for a moment with his lips on her skin, imagining a life where this was a regular occurrence. Then, with one last look at her sleeping form, he quietly let himself out, making sure the door locked behind him.

 

Feeling lighter than he had in ages, Oliver got back on his bike with a sense of purpose. Starting the next day, Oliver Queen was going to woo Felicity Smoak.

 

***

 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity had been enjoying the last few weeks, spending time with Oliver. Though she had wondered briefly if maybe she had forgiven him too quickly, her hesitation had been overridden by the ease and comfort she felt during their time together. More than that, Oliver seemed happy. Happier than she remembered seeing him, well, ever. His smiles came easily and frequently, and were more often than not aimed at her. Overall, it was good. Everything was good. Now if only she could make her heart remember that they were _just friends_. But...sometimes, when she caught him watching her, or when he stood too close and cupped her elbow, his eyes dropping to her lips...she wondered. _Were they really just friends?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're nearing the end! There will be one more chapter after this, and then a (slightly shorter) epilogue. I can't believe it's almost done!
> 
> As always, thank you to the amazing dettiot for being beta extraordinaire, and callistawolf for pre-reading and cheerleading. I'd also like to thank machaswicket for (unknowingly) letting me use a line of hers. She'll know it when she sees it.

Felicity rounded the kitchen and made her way to the living room of Dig and Lyla’s apartment, two glasses of lemonade in her hands. The minute Lyla had opened the door Felicity had gotten a good look at her and how her belly had seemingly popped overnight. She had insisted that her friend park herself on the sofa and stay there, relaxing, while Felicity had busied herself getting them both drinks.

 

“This is nice,” Lyla commented as she took one of the glasses from Felicity. Felicity sat down in the armchair next to the sofa and curled her feet up under her, taking a sip from her own glass.

 

"It is," Felicity replied. "I'm glad we're doing this. And I'm so sorry it's been awhile since we've seen each other. I've just been so busy," she continued, hoping that Lyla could hear the genuine regret she felt.

 

Lyla smirked at her. "Yes, you have been. Very busy," she paused and sipped from her lemonade, and Felicity knew her well enough to know that she was about to say something Felicity probably wouldn't like. "With Oliver."

 

"What? No!" Felicity denied, immediately and vehemently. "That's not true, I've been busy with work and...stuff..." she trailed off lamely. The truth was, she _had_ been busy spending time with Oliver.

 

For the past few weeks, since they had talked and agreed to be friends, Oliver had been an ever-present part of Felicity’s days--and her nights. She had thrown herself into helping him prepare to win back his family’s company, and she was impressed by and proud of how serious he was about working hard and succeeding. She wasn’t even surprised by how quickly they had fallen into a routine. Spending time with Oliver was easy, and familiar. Yet it did kind of amaze her that she could feel so comfortable with him, while still getting excited, nervous butterflies every time he touched her.

 

So, yeah. Now that she was thinking about it...she had been letting Oliver monopolize her time. And she had been enjoying it. But she didn’t want her time with Oliver to come at the expense of her other friendships.

 

“I’m sorry, Lyla,” she sighed. “I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I just let myself get so wrapped up in helping Oliver with this fight to get QC back, and I’ve neglected you.”

 

Lyla had started shaking her head halfway through Felicity speaking. “Nope. No. Not even a little bit, Felicity. You have absolutely not been a terrible friend, and I’m really glad you and Oliver are working things out. He needs you, and I think, a little bit, you need him, too,” Lyla said thoughtfully.

 

Felicity tilted her head to the side and chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t...I don’t think I know what you mean?”

 

Lyla sighed and scooted down the sofa a little so that she was closer to Felicity’s chair. She set her glass down and gave Felicity a long, appraising, look.

 

“I’m really happy that you and Oliver are spending time together, Felicity,” she said, carefully.

 

“I know,” Felicity replied, confused. “You already said that. But that’s no excuse. Helping one friend with something doesn’t give me a reason to spend less time with my other friends.”

 

“That’s the thing, honey,” Lyla said, knowingly. “ _Are_ you and Oliver friends?”

 

“What do you mean? Of course we’re friends...isn’t that - you just said you’re glad he and I are friends again?” Getting more confused by the second, Felicity frowned, trying to figure out what Lyla was getting at.

 

“No,” Lyla replied patiently. “I said I’m glad you’re spending time together.”

 

Felicity blew a breath out in frustration, and wrinkled her nose. Trying to avoid sounding annoyed with her friend, she took a breath before speaking. “Lyla, I don’t understand what you’re saying here. I’m confused. Oliver and I are friends again, and I’ve been helping him prepare for the meeting to determine the fate of QC,” Felicity said, realizing that she hadn’t kept the exasperation out of her voice.

 

“OK, I want you to think back over the past few weeks with Oliver. How has he been with you? How has he been acting?” Lyla asked.

 

Felicity paused, willing herself to calm her frustration and consider Lyla’s question. She supposed...there _was_ something different about Oliver over the last little while. He smiled more, and mostly at her. He seemed lighter, more at ease. He joked, and dare she say, flirted with her often. Personal space apparently had no meaning to him, at least not with her. And ever since that night when he had shown up at her door, adorably fumbling over asking her if she wanted to have pizza and watch a movie, he had also seemed to be going out of his way to _do things_ for her. It was actually kind of strange. He brought dinner to the Foundry for her in the evenings, walked her to her car every night, and one time had even materialized behind her as she had been rubbing at a knot in her neck.

 

She felt herself flush a little as she remembered how he had pushed her hand away, replacing it with his own. His touch was firm but gentle, and she had been relieved that he couldn’t see her face. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning as he gently kneaded at the tight spot in her neck, expertly easing through the knot there. His voice has been low and rough when he had asked her if she was feeling better, and she had only been able to nod, not trusting her own voice in that moment.

 

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Lyla’s voice interrupted her memory, and when Felicity looked at her she saw a glint in the other woman’s eyes and a teasing smile on her face. “You’re blushing just thinking about him, Felicity. And John tells me that Oliver can’t even hear your name without grinning like a fool. So why don’t we talk about what’s really going on here?” She reached out and patted Felicity’s knee lightly. “Come on, indulge me, let me live vicariously through you. Girl talk and all that stuff!”

 

Felicity cracked a small smile, but her mind was tumbling over what Lyla had said, and going over things that she hadn’t had a second thought about when they had happened, but now seemed much more meaningful. Oliver couldn’t hear her name without smiling? Oliver had been going out of his way to make himself available to her, always eagerly getting her a second cup of coffee, or asking if she needed a break, tidying up her apartment before he left for the day…

 

_What was going on? What was he trying to do?_

 

“Felicity,” Lyla prompted. “What’s going on with you and Oliver?”

 

“Lyla,” Felicity sighed, “I honestly don’t know.”

 

***

 

Felicity supposed that other people wouldn’t consider it an exciting Saturday night, but she was perfectly happy in front of her computers, waiting for her boys to gather so they could go over the latest intel on the smuggling ring they had been tracking. This was her domain, and she was very happy here. Especially since she had been alone with her music and her computers for the couple of hours since she arrived, allowing her to work productively and efficiently.

 

But now, she had finished what she needed to do, and she was impatient for the guys to arrive so she could tell them what she had found. As if on cue, the lock to the door beeped and swung open. Felicity spun in her chair, and then froze, her hands gripping the chair arms, as she watched a shirtless, sweaty Oliver, wearing only basketball shorts, trot down the stairs. She almost didn’t notice Dig behind him, but when she did meet his gaze she saw him smirking at her.

 

“Hey,” Oliver said, approaching her chair and holding his hand out to her. Felicity looked down at his hand, her brain moving slowly, and realized that he had a paper bag, and he was trying to give it to her.

 

“Hi,” she squeaked. Wincing, she cleared her throat. “Hi, hi.” That was better. Sort of. “What’s this?” she asked, taking the bag from him. And really, this just wasn’t fair. He was standing right there, so close she could smell the sweat and musk and earthiness that was all Oliver. Not to mention, she could see the beads of sweat rolling down his chest...one by one, slowly, until they disappeared into the waistband of his shorts and…

 

Felicity jerked her gaze up to Oliver’s face, and she could _feel_ the deep blush blossoming on her cheeks. Oliver was grinning at her, and she heard muffled laughter behind him. She hadn’t even realized Roy had arrived, but he must have, because she knew that was his laugh.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on Oliver’s face, and not on the very naked, very sweaty chest directly in front of her.

 

“I said…” he started, his grin widening even more, “that I stopped off on my way back from my run and grabbed one of those blueberry scones you like from the place around the block.”

 

“Oh, thanks!” she replied happily, focusing her attention on the bag and the delicious pastry inside.

 

“Any time,” Oliver murmured, leaning forward a bit to run his hand down her arm lightly, before turning away and walking over to the training mats. Felicity couldn’t help the little shiver that went through her at his touch, nor could she stop her eyes from following him as he started working through a series of stretches.

 

As she watched him bend forward at the waist to touch his toes, and then straighten back up and raise his arms over his head, he caught her eye. And winked.

 

Felicity felt herself flush again, and quickly spun her chair around so that she wasn’t facing him anymore.

 

 _What was he doing? Freaking preening show pony,_ she grumbled to herself. And yeah. Now she had resorted to grumbling _in her head_.

 

Shaking her head to rid herself of the Oliver-induced fuzziness, she focused on her screens. She watched her computers idly for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the guys in the background. Oliver and Roy had started some light sparring, and Dig was calling out tips to Roy as they fought, commenting on his form and technique. After a little while, Dig left the others and walked over to her.

 

“Hey, Felicity,” he said as he came up beside her, and she turned in her chair to look at him, her eyebrow raised in question. “Any word on that shipment we were watching out for?”

 

Oh, thank God. Or Dig. Or both.

 

“Yes! Yeah, I got a match for the boat we were waiting for, it’s supposed to arrive a little after midnight tonight at the harbor,” she explained.

 

Dig called the others over, and they gathered around her computer, the mood effectively shifting to work mode for a bit as they went over the information Felicity had pulled together. After a brief discussion about the plan, the group disbanded to various parts of the basement again, as they waited out the hours until it was time to head out.

 

Felicity busied herself with making sure her intel for that night’s mission was solid, wanting it to be as easy and quick as possible for the guys. She paused briefly to... _quickly glance_ in Oliver’s direction when he started doing a set on the salmon ladder, but she had forced herself to look away after only a few minutes.

 

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear him jump down, and she didn’t even realize he had stopped until he was standing next to her, his hip leaning against her desk as he rolled his head side to side slowly.

 

“Something wrong?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes away from his _still bare chest_. Which meant she then focused on his neck, and throat, as he slowly swung his head from side to side. She swallowed thickly before moving her gaze up to her eyes, but thankfully Oliver’s eyes were closed.

 

He shook his head lightly and opened his eyes, giving her a soft smile.

 

“No, I’m okay. Just have a bit of a sore neck lately,” he sighed. “It’s not too bad, but enough that I can’t push myself as hard during workouts as I’d like.”

 

Felicity pursed her lips at him, and did not miss the way his eyes dipped to her mouth. She propped her elbow on the arm of her chair and leaned her head into her hand, tilting back so that she could look up at him without straining.

 

“Maaaaaybe,” she said, lengthening the word out so that it sounded just a little bit teasing, “if you weren’t basically sleeping _on the floor_ , this wouldn’t be an issue.”

 

Oliver smiled at her and shook his head. “It’s fine, I’ve slept in worse places.”

 

Her heart clenched for a moment at the reminder that he had been through so much, had experienced so much pain and sadness and he had persevered. Not wanting to turn the conversation dark and brooding, she smiled back.

 

“Still, it can’t be helping your neck. And you’re not getting any younger, mister,” she said, mock sternly.

 

He huffed a laugh at that, his eyes crinkling in the corners a little, and _god_ it was just unfair how attractive he was when he smiled. Always, but especially when he smiled.

 

“Thanks for that reminder,” he said, shifting his body a little so that he was standing closer to her chair, his legs bumping into hers a little, almost playfully.

 

Felicity glanced over at his makeshift bed, the thin air mattress covered in ratty sheets. She also noticed Dig and Roy had abandoned their activities and were standing together at the edge of the training mats, trying to be discrete about the fact that they were watching the interaction between Felicity and Oliver with interest. Narrowing her eyes at them quickly, she turned back to Oliver.

 

She surveyed him closely for a minute, her mind running through options. She knew that Dig had offered Oliver a place to stay when they had returned from Lian Yu, and Oliver had refused, saying that he didn’t want to get in the way of the family Dig was building. She could offer him her guest room, but with the recent developments between them...she didn’t think that was the most appropriate response. She just didn’t understand why, if he insisted on staying at the Foundry, he didn’t at least get himself a real bed.

 

Could it be a monetary issue? She was pretty up to date on Oliver’s financial situation, and while he considered himself poor, he wasn’t _actually_ poor by like, normal people’s standards. Still...maybe he was trying to be more frugal and money conscious?

 

Or maybe...maybe this was his way of punishing himself. Another manifestation of his idea that he didn’t deserve good things. Didn’t deserve to be comfortable, or happy. And that - well, that just wouldn’t do.

 

“That’s it!” she proclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m buying you a bed. This...ridiculous thing you’ve been sleeping on, or if I know you at all which I do, _not_ sleeping on because it’s so damn uncomfortable, is just not gonna cut it anymore. It’s like you’re _choosing_ to be in pain, Oliver. And it’s just...it’s silly, okay? So I will not hear any arguments about this. None. _I. Am. Buying. You. A. Bed.”_

 

She had stood up in the middle of her speech, making her chest to chest with Oliver - though she barely met his shoulder with their height difference - and she punctuated her last words with sharp pokes to his (very solid) chest. She heard the telltale, and increasingly familiar, sound of Roy stifling a laugh behind her, but her eyes never left Oliver’s face. She was expecting an argument, or an outright refusal. But instead, a slow, teasing grin spread across his face, replacing the surprised expression he had worn during her tirade.

 

“Are you…” he trailed off, and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying you want me to sleep in your bed, Felicity?”

 

This time, Roy and Dig didn’t even bother trying to hide their burst of laughter. Felicity felt herself flush, and she was certain she was bright red. But...wait. Was Oliver...was he _flirting_ with her? Openly, and unapologetically, and _in front of other people?_ This was...not at all what she had been expecting. This was new. Though, if she thought about it, over the past few weeks he had been - well, where he used to shy away from responding to her unintentional innuendos, now he was answering them in kind, with a teasing smile and slightly suggestive lilt in his voice. She just hadn’t really taken note of it until now. Until Lyla had put the thought in her head that maybe there was more than friendship on Oliver’s mind.

 

The pieces were slowly starting to come together, but Felicity was curious just how far Oliver would take it. So, despite her embarrassment and the deep blush she knew she was sporting, she was determined not to stutter, or babble, or back down from the challenge he had unofficially issued.

 

“And if I am?” she asked him right back, reveling in the flare of pride she felt when the grin dropped from his face and his mouth hung open slightly. He clearly wasn’t expecting her to give it back to him. _And yes she realized how that sounded._ “I mean,” she continued, holding fast to her determination to carry this through, “you spend so much time with me already. What’s a bed between such close friends? Hell. I may as well give you a key to my place, with how often you’re there, right?”

 

She could have sworn she saw a glint of something in his eyes - acknowledgment that he was accepting _her_ challenge maybe? - before it was gone, and Oliver surprised her again. Three months ago, the suggestion that she hand over a key to her place would have caused tension and awkwardness and Oliver would have regressed into himself, she was sure of it. But now, he just smiled softly at her, and took a small step away. The brief surge of disappointment she felt vanished, though, when he reached out and squeezed her hand gently.

 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” he said. “It would mean I could come in while you’re in the shower,” he paused, smirking, and she knew her eyes had probably gone comically wide on her face, “and not have to stand out on your stoop, waiting for you to wash your hair,” he finished, teasingly. And then, with _another freaking wink in her direction_ , he turned away from her and walked over to Roy and Dig. “Time to suit up. Let’s go get some smugglers!”

 

And as the guys scattered to get ready, Felicity was left standing, dumbfounded, still trying to process what had just happened.

 

***

 

The following morning, Felicity sat on her couch, deep in thought. It was far too early to be awake on a Sunday, but she hadn’t really gotten much sleep. Her mind couldn’t stop turning over the events of the previous evening. Both before and after the mission.

 

_The smugglers had been caught and turned over to the police with relative ease, keeping with the theme of the summer, which seemed to be “criminals were getting dumber.” Felicity had done her best to shake off her confusion about what was happening with Oliver, focusing instead on guiding the boys through their mission._

 

_They had come back to the Foundry in good spirits. Oliver had walked over to her as he pulled off his hood and gloves, giving her a bright smile._

 

_“Good work tonight,” he said, coming to stand next to her...invading her personal space again. “Breakfast tomorrow? I’ll come by around 10 with bagels from the good place. The one that makes them chewy on the inside.”_

 

_He spoke with such ease and familiarity, like it was a foregone conclusion that he would bring her breakfast on a Sunday morning. He was looking right into her eyes, his gaze open and clear and full of affection, and she found herself getting lost in it. They just looked at each other for awhile, until Felicity remembered that he had asked her about breakfast. But she couldn’t do more than smile weakly and nod, her mind still trying to make sense of all this new information. Or rather: old information, new angle._

 

_Oliver squeezed her shoulder before taking off to the bathroom for a shower. She watched him walk away for a minute, before a throat clearing pulled her attention to Dig, who was standing against the med table, arms crossed, eyebrows raised._

 

_“Where’s Roy?” Felicity asked, not giving Dig the opportunity to say anything._

 

_Dig didn’t respond right away, just watching Felicity closely. She felt herself start to get antsy under his scrutiny, and she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt a little._

 

_“He left, while you and Oliver were gazing into each other’s eyes,” Dig finally said, wryly._

 

_“We were not...gazing…” Felicity mumbled, looking down at her hands._

 

_“Right. Not gazing. Whatever you say,” he responded. “Hey, Felicity,” Dig’s tone changed, becoming more serious. “I’m on your side, you know that right? Not that...not that I’m not on Oliver’s side, too. But I know how stubborn and difficult and emotionally closed off that man can be - has been - with you. I want you to be happy, always.”_

 

_She looked up then, and smiled warmly at the man she considered a big brother._

 

_“I know, John. I know that. But really - I’m just glad Oliver has someone like you. Someone he can count on,” she said._

 

_Dig shook his head. “The thing is, Felicity. Oliver doesn’t need me. Not the way he needs you. I’m not the one who’s made him smile like a loon these last few weeks. I’m not the one he was so afraid of losing, that he finally decided to get his head out of his ass.”_

 

_“John…” Felicity warned, not really wanting to rehash the conversation she had had with Lyla._

 

_He put his hands up in front of him, palms facing her, in an act of surrender._

 

_“I’m not trying to get on your case about anything, I promise. I just wanted you to know...as much as he has the power to hurt you, as much as he **has** hurt you, I think you should know that you have just as much power over him. He’s trying, Felicity. He really is,” Dig said._

 

_Felicity sighed and looked away for a minute. Because really, he had hit on everything that was holding her back. She knew how she felt about Oliver. Her feelings hadn’t gone away. And if she let herself acknowledge it, she knew that over the past few weeks Oliver had been trying to show her how he felt about her, too. But she was afraid to admit it. She was afraid of just how badly he could hurt her._

 

_“I know he’s trying, John. I just...I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted, looking back at Dig helplessly._

 

_Dig walked over to her, pulling her out of her chair by her hands and wrapping her in a warm hug._

 

_“I know. And I understand. But, think about it, okay?” he said into her hair. “I want you to be happy. And I think...if you give him a chance, maybe you both have a shot at it, you know?”_

 

_Felicity nodded against his chest, and then they both heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, signalling the end of Oliver’s shower. They pulled away, and with one last shared smile, Felicity started getting ready to leave for the night, knowing Oliver would be waiting to walk her to her car._

 

Felicity sighed, leaning forward and resting her head in her hands. She didn’t know how to process this. When they had come back from Lian Yu, she had been determined to move on from Oliver. That hadn’t worked, clearly, and she had allowed herself to accept that maybe they were just meant to be friends. But then, ever since that night when she had fallen asleep during the movie, things had been different between them. All the little things she now realized he had been doing...all the pastries and coffees and flirtatious words and smiles and touches…

 

Oliver was wooing her.

 

The realization washed over her like a wave.

 

They had, essentially, been dating. _Without her realizing they were dating._ And...without all the extra perks that came _with_ dating. Like kissing. And other such dating-related activities.

 

This was everything she had wanted. She had wanted him to be open and honest with her about his feelings. She had wanted him to view her as more than just his sidekick slash IT girl slash executive assistant slash Girl Wednesday. She had wanted him in her life, on a regular basis, outside of work and Arrow things.

 

She wanted him.

 

So why was she suddenly so terrified?

 

And why was he doing this without _telling_ her he was doing this?

 

Felicity knew that they still had a lot of things to work through. Despite their recent closeness, and her desire to let him in fully, she still held onto a good amount of hurt and anger that she needed to have the chance to hash out. And she also knew that Oliver still, at least somewhat, held onto the ridiculous idea that he didn’t deserve to be happy. That he didn’t deserve her.  

 

She wanted this with him. But she wanted to do it right. And she wanted to _know_ she was doing it. Because it was just like Oliver to date her without her knowing he was dating her. Communication, it seemed, was another thing they had to work on.

 

When a knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, Felicity glanced at the clock. 10:00am. Right on time.

 

Steeling herself to finally have a much-need conversation with Oliver, she got up and went to the door. After two deep breaths, she pulled it open. Oliver stood on the other side, bag in one hand, coffee tray in the other, a bright smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Felicity cut him off.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

***


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is happy. Happier than he can remember being in a long time. He’s spending more time than ever with Felicity, and she’s been responding well to his attempts at showing her how he really feels. The way she flirted back with him in the Foundry the previous night had sent his hopes soaring. This was something he could do. This was something that could work. They could work. So now he’s on his way to her apartment with breakfast and coffee and he wants every Sunday to be like this. He wants it so much he can feel it in every part of his body. And he’s going to tell her. He’s going to tell her, as soon as she opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. The final chapter (other than the epilogue). I can’t believe what this turned into. I’m still processing it all, so expect a longer note with the epilogue. This chapter was really hard for me, and it ended up coming out a bit differently than I originally intended. I really, really hope I did justice to this conversation, and that it feels fitting and in line with the story I’ve been writing and the characters as I’ve written them. My undying, indescribable thanks to dettiot for being the absolute best beta, and callistawolf for pre-reading and cheerleading every chapter. And to every single person who read, liked, left kudos, commented on tumblr or on twitter or on AO3. Thank you. Epilogue to come soon (by this time next week, but hopefully sooner).

 

Oliver Queen was apparently the kind of man who woke up early on a Sunday morning, went for a quick run, showered, and then set out to make two different stops - one for coffee, one for a very specific type of bagel - just to bring a smile to a woman’s face. It struck him, as he walked down the street towards Felicity’s townhouse, just how different this version of himself was from who he had been before the island. Ollie would have never even considered going out of his way like this for a girl. But Oliver? Well, for Oliver, there was no choice to make.

 

The line at the bagel place had been long, but Oliver hadn’t minded waiting. He knew how much Felicity loved these specific bagels (“ _They’re just the right amount of chewy, you know? The doughy to crispy ratio is spot on with these bagels. They aren’t too thin, or too sweet, like some places make them. And they’re always so fresh, you don’t even need to toast them to get that warm bagel thing…”_ ), and the coffee place where he got her coffee every morning was the only place that got her order right. So the extra stops didn’t bother him, not when it was such a small thing he could do that would make her happy. And that’s all he wanted to do. Make her happy. All the time.

 

It surprised him a little, how strong his feelings for her were. Sure, he had known for a while how he felt. How deeply he felt and how much she meant to him. But now that he had stopped shoving those feelings down and burying them, now that he was allowing himself to actually _feel_ those emotions ...the overwhelming strength of them surprised him. It was just as all-encompassing as he had anticipated. She invaded his thoughts constantly. He wanted more of her, always. More of her smile, her laugh, her babbling. More of her gentle touches and soft looks and just _more_.

 

He picked up his pace a little after a quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 10am. He was eager to see her. To talk to her. He was ready now. After the last few weeks of flirting and spending time together and just overall upping the ante in his attempt to show her his feelings were real, he was ready to say it.

 

He could only hope that she was willing to hear it.

 

As he rounded the corner onto her block, his heart rate picked up a bit and he felt his palms start to sweat. He was nervous. In a good way. Excited, and nervous, and just wanting to do this and take this step and move forward. With Felicity.

 

Climbing the steps to her door, he tried to slow his breathing and calm his racing heart. This was what everything he had been doing had been building up to. This moment. He was going to tell her how he felt, and he was going to make her see how much he meant it. How much she meant to him.

 

After a couple deep breaths, which helped him feel more centered, he knocked. He could hear her walking towards the door, and the thought of her, right there, waiting for him, brought a smile to his face. After a minute the door swung open.

 

She looked beautiful. Like always. And he wanted to tell her. He wanted to be able to tell her how beautiful she was on a regular basis. But maybe...that should wait. At least until he had had a chance to say what he wanted (needed) to say.

 

He opened his mouth to say hello, but he was interrupted before he could get the word out.  

 

“We need to talk,” Felicity said. No “hey,” or “good morning.” And she sounded…firm. Almost...defensive?

 

He felt the smile drop from his face, and he just looked at her for a minute, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what had happened...why she sounded like this. As he stood there, she crossed her arms over her chest, and he took in her puffy eyes and messy hair. She hadn’t slept much. And she didn’t look happy.

 

When he had last seen her, in the Foundry the night before, things had been fine. Or so he thought? Now that he was thinking about it, she had been a bit quiet when he had come back from rounding up the smugglers, barely saying a word when he had walked her to her car. But before that, earlier, when they had flirted about a bed and a key to her place...when she had watched him stretch and work out on the salmon ladder...things had been good.

 

So what had happened? What had changed?

 

“Okay…” he replied slowly, drawing the word out. “Sure, we can talk. Can I...can I come in? Or did you want to talk out here?” he asked, pasting a small smile on his face again in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

 

Felicity didn’t smile back or even respond. She just moved aside and let him pass her on his way inside. Oliver’s heart rate was picking back up, but instead of the nervous excitement he had felt only moments before, now he  was quickly starting to feel fear and dread. He had no idea what was going on, or why she suddenly seemed so upset with him.

 

“I brought coffee and bagels,” he said quietly, as he moved towards the living room. He set them down on the coffee table and turned to face Felicity. She was standing in the entrance to the living room, her arms crossed over her chest once again.

 

They just stood there for a few minutes, silently, watching each other. But where these silent moments had been charged with a more pleasant, anticipatory tension over the last few weeks, today it just felt strained and uncomfortable.

 

“Felicity -” he started to say, although he really had no idea _what_ he was going to say, because he had no idea what was happening. Five minutes earlier he had been happy and excited and ready to tell Felicity how he felt about her. And now...now he felt deflated, and concerned, and like everything that had been at his fingertips moments before was slipping away.

 

“What’s going on here, Oliver?” Felicity interrupted him, her voice just slightly harsh, but also tired and...defeated?

 

He stared at her for a minute, confused as hell. She met his gaze, but her eyes were shuttered and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. The entire situation felt off, unsettled…. _wrong._ And he felt like he had missed something. A very, very big something.

 

“I…” he shrugged helplessly, “I was going to ask you the same thing. Felicity…” he took a couple steps towards her, but stopped when Felicity uncrossed her arms and put a hand up, palm facing him in the universal sign for don’t come any closer. His heart was thundering in his chest now, because this was all wrong. This was not how the morning was supposed to be going.

 

“Felicity, what’s wrong?” He could hear the pleading tone of his voice, the desperation, but he didn’t care. He had to figure out what was happening, and he had to fix it. Fast. “Please, just...talk to me. Tell me what’s got you so upset... _please,”_ he implored.

 

It seemed to work, because Felicity’s gaze softened, and she walked fully into the living room. She sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. Feeling somewhat relieved, Oliver took the seat she offered. He reached out to take her hand, but Felicity evaded him, clasping her hands together and holding them against her stomach. She shook her head, but at least she was here, with him, and she didn’t seem as upset anymore.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I sounded so angry. I didn’t mean to...to lash out at you like that. I was just - I was thinking, before you came, and I had all these things in my head and all these emotions swirling around and the easiest one to grab onto was anger.”

 

Oliver nodded, still not completely understanding, but he knew enough to realize that Felicity needed to talk, and he needed to let her. He needed to listen, and really hear whatever she was saying. He so badly wanted to touch her, to hold her hand or pull her closer. He craved that physical connection with her all the time, but especially when things weren’t great between them. When they were fighting, or distant...those were the times when he felt like if he could just touch her, connect with her through a hand on her shoulder, or her hands in his, then everything would be okay.

 

But he also knew that he had to respect her boundaries and respect what she needed. One of the things she had said to him at the barbeque weeks ago had stuck with him. He had always taken what _he_ needed from her. He had never really put her needs first. And that’s what the last few weeks had been about. Little ways he could show her he was putting her first. And now this...this was a big way. Because while he needed to touch her, she needed to not be touched. And he had to show her that he understood, and that he was willing - no, _happy_ \- to do what she needed.

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I can understand that. Do you...do you want to tell me about all those thoughts you were having?”

 

Felicity bit her lip and looked away, nodding slightly. He noticed her start to fidget with her fingers, pulling on them and twisting them in her lap, and his own hand twitched with the need to cover hers and still her movement. Felicity was nervous, and anxious, and he still had no idea what was going on.

 

Oliver waited, and after a minute, she took a deep breath and looked back at him. She squared her shoulders and met his eyes, and this was a look he was familiar with. She was determined. She had made up her mind about something, and she was going to see it through. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk a little, and he folded his lips inwards to stop from smiling, figuring that now was probably not an appropriate time to grin at just how adorable and amazing she was.

 

“Oliver...why are you here?” she asked.

 

What? Okay, now he was even more confused.

 

“I’m...I’m here to bring you breakfast and coffee? We talked about this last night, Felicity, I thought…” he trailed off. Had he read everything totally wrong? Did she not want him to come over, was she not enjoying spending time with him?

 

“No, we didn’t really talk about it,” Felicity responded patiently. “You came back to the Foundry and told me you would be here with breakfast, with bagels from the place I like and the good coffee from that different place, the one that always gets my order exactly right. And it was all like it was just...assumed. Like…” she paused, and took a deep breath again. “Like, something a boyfriend would do.”

 

Ah. There it was. She _had_ picked up on what he’d been doing. He should have known...she was smarter than anyone he had ever met, but sometimes when it came to realizing just how much she meant to the people around her, well. It took her a bit to catch on. But eventually she did.

 

Now he couldn’t help the smile from spreading across his face, though. Because hearing Felicity refer to him - to his behavior - as something a boyfriend would do? That felt right. It felt good. It felt like something he wanted to hear more of. And now he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand.

 

“Felicity, I -”

 

“No, Oliver, wait,” she interrupted him. Again. But she didn’t pull her hand away, so he took that as a good sign. “I just...I have some things I need to say, okay? And I need you to let me. Please. Even if you don’t like what I’m saying...I need to get through this. Okay?”

 

Oliver nodded and squeezed her hand in agreement. He knew this; he had been expecting this, and frankly, he deserved anything and everything she might have to say to him. Did he want to rehash the past, and hear all the ways he had failed her or disappointed her or upset her? No. Not at all. But he did want to show her he had changed, and that he was trying so hard to be what she needed. What she deserved.

 

“The past two years of my life have been...amazing. Exhilarating, exhausting...confusing. But amazing,” Felicity started. “You...you swept into my life and just sorta...changed everything, you know? And suddenly, out of nowhere...everything was about you. You were this larger than life person who needed my help and I just...I mean...nobody says no to Oliver Queen, right?” she laughed a little, shaking her head. But something squeezed in his chest because the person she was describing, that role he had been playing when they first met...that wasn’t who he was. Or who he wanted to be, especially with her.

 

“But...then I got to know you. _Really_ got to know you. And you weren’t this unattainable, unreachable, celebrity figure anymore. You were just a person. Still unattainable but...for different reasons,” she looked at him then, as if she knew that he had been about to interrupt, to protest, and he snapped his mouth closed, nodding at her to continue. “You were, Oliver. It doesn’t do us any good to try to rewrite the past. I was the IT girl, and we both knew that was the box I fit into. But somewhere along the way things started to change...to shift, right?”

 

Oliver swallowed, and nodded again. Because he wasn’t going to avoid or deflect anymore. Today was about getting it all out, and he was 100% willing to follow her lead and just hope it led to the place he wanted.

 

Felicity sighed and pulled her hands away from his, standing up and moving across the room to the window. She stood for a minute, just looking outside. Oliver was frozen in his seat, torn between wanting to go stand behind her and needing to let this play out. Before he could make up his mind, she turned to face him again.

 

“And then things got messy,” she said, and he could tell this was difficult for her. Talking about this, admitting these things...it was as hard for her to say as it was for him to hear. “I started to fall for the unattainable guy. Something, by the way, that I had promised myself I wouldn’t do. And I had to sit back and watch as he...well, you know. There was always someone. Someone _else._ And I knew that. I was _fine_ with it. I really was,” she said emphatically, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

 

“But,” she continued, “you just...there were times when I thought maybe...maybe he _does_ see me like that. Little looks, little touches. Words…” Oliver knew exactly what she was talking about. And she was right. He had...he had put her into this IT girl box, but he had done things and said things that left the the lid of the box cracked open just a bit; the option for _more_ had lingered in the air between them pretty much since the beginning.

 

“And then after Russia...when you told me you couldn’t be with someone you really cared about, and you looked at me like that...everything started to hurt more, Oliver. Sara...I love Sara. I do. But that whole thing? That _hurt._ So much.”

 

She had turned around to face the window again, her back to him, and he could hear the tears in her voice. His heart leapt into his throat and he wanted nothing more than to go over and wrap his arms around her. But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet. She wasn’t done, and she deserved to say it all. No matter how badly it cut at him.

 

“These past few weeks have been...they’ve been great. Easy, and fun. And I want that to continue. I do.  But...there’s still anger and hurt, Oliver. It still hurts. I can’t just forget, or ignore…” she trailed off for a minute, gazing out the window. “Everything with Sara, and then...and then with Slade,” her voice dropped, almost to a whisper, and Oliver was on his feet without even really realizing he had stood.

 

“Felicity,” he whispered desperately, because he just couldn’t keep quiet anymore. She turned back to face him, and his stomach twisted violently at the sight of the tears running down her cheeks. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and she was shaking a bit.

 

He took a step towards her, and clenched his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. She was protecting herself, and he didn’t want to push too hard and risk her shutting him out completely.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, trying to pour all of his regret - and he had so much regret - into his words. “I’m so sorry, Felicity. I can’t...there aren’t words…” he trailed off, frustrated with his inability to say what he needed to.

 

They stood there for a few minutes, Felicity crying softly as Oliver watched helplessly. He wanted so, so badly to fix this. To take away all the hurt and pain he had caused her. But he didn’t know how. He couldn’t erase the past. He couldn’t change how he had behaved or what he had done. He could only vow to be better, to do better.

 

After a few long moments, Felicity swiped at the tears on her face and took a few breaths, trying to calm herself down, he knew. She looked right at him again, and that resolve, that determination he had seen in her eyes at the beginning of the conversation was back.

 

“You _kissed_ me, Oliver,” she said, and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat at her words. At the memory it inspired. “You kissed me and you told me you...you told me you…” She seemed unable to get the words out, and so she just stopped, standing there, her hands gesturing in front of her.

 

He knew what she had been trying to say; the words she couldn’t get out. And his mind flashed back to that night in the mansion. The feel of her lips under his, the look on her face….it was all seared into his brain, images he would never, ever forget. And after all the pain and hurt, after everything that had happened over the summer and before, everything that had led them here, right now...he just couldn’t keep it in any longer.  

 

“I love you.” He said it quietly, softly.

 

She closed her eyes, as if to block out the words, and when she opened them again he could see the pain, the confusion, the anger. He could see it all. “Yes. Yeah. You told me you love me and you can’t just -”

 

He cut her off then, crossing the room to her in two quick strides, grabbing her flailing arms in his hands and standing so, so close to her.  

 

“No. Felicity. _I love you._ I meant it. That night - I meant it then. And I mean it even more now, if that’s possible.” He needed her to understand. He needed her to believe him.

 

He ran his hands down her arms and laced their fingers together. She was looking up at him, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide. He would give anything to just kiss her senseless. To ignore everything else and just claim her lips. But they had to finish this. This was their chance to start fresh, with everything that had happened on the table and in the open so that they could move forward. Together.

 

“Felicity...I’m not - talking about this stuff isn’t easy for me,” he said. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he felt the tension in the room diffuse just a bit. He smiled at her softly. “But I want to be. I want to be better at talking about this. I want to be better at a lot of things. That’s what...that’s what I’ve been trying to do, the past few weeks,” he explained.

 

“Oliver,” she replied, just as softly. “Why didn’t you...why didn’t you tell me? Or - I don’t know, say something?”

 

He sighed, and resisted the urge to look away. He was committed to being better, and that included being open and honest with her. So he kept his eyes locked on hers as he tried to make sense of what he wanted to say.

 

“I was scared,” he finally admitted. “I was scared that I...that I wouldn’t be able to...get better. To be the kind of man you need. The kind of man you deserve,” he said.

 

Felicity’s eyes softened, and he could see and _feel_ the affection shining in her gaze. She pulled one of her hands out of his and cupped his cheek. He couldn’t help himself; he turned his face into her palm and placed a soft kiss there.

 

“Oh, Oliver, that’s just it,” she said. “You’ve _always_ been who I need. Who I want. I don’t want you to change. Or get ‘better’,” she continued. “I just want you to talk to me. And be honest with me.”

 

“I know I hurt you, Felicity,” Oliver said, his confidence bolstered by her words. “And I can’t take that back, no matter how badly I wish I could. All I can do now is promise to try my best, to pour everything I have into never doing it again.” He took a deep breath. This was it. He was all in, and he needed to show her that. “I love you. And I want to be with you. If you’ll have me.”

 

He looked down at her as she looked up at him, and this time the silence didn’t feel tense or heavy. It felt charged with hope and anticipation.

 

“I want that too,” she said finally. “I know we can’t...we can’t take back the past. And really...the only thing that’s going to make the hurt fade completely is time. But - I trust you, Oliver. And I want to move past it all. I want to move forward.”

 

Oliver sighed in relief and leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. He breathed her in, allowing himself a moment to process everything that had just happened, everything that had been said. But then, Felicity pulled back and gazed up at him from under her lashes.

 

“If we’re going to do this,” she said, and he caught the teasing glint in her eyes, “I want to _know_ we’re doing it. None of this...sneakily trying to win me over. I want to date Oliver Queen and I want to _be aware that I’m dating him_ ,” she said.

 

Oliver couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him. He reached his free hand up to where her hand still rested against his cheek, pulling it into his again and squeezing it, before letting go so that he could tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She turned her face slightly into his touch as his finger grazed her cheek, and then she met his eyes again.

 

“Are you saying you want me to woo you, Felicity?” he asked, his tone matching her teasing even as his voice dropped down an octave.  

 

Felicity shivered slightly, and he smirked, feeling more than a bit smug at the idea that his voice alone could affect her like that. He saw her swallow and look down quickly, and when she met his eyes again hers were a little darker.

 

“Yes. Yeah, I guess I am,” she replied softly.

 

"I can do that," he said, flashing her a grin that he hoped was only a little suggestive. "Let's start tomorrow. Felicity, can I take you to dinner?" She bit her lip and nodded, and Oliver felt his whole body relax, the tension of the morning finally, finally being fully released.

 

He leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, before turning and making his way over to her door.

 

"Until tomorrow, then," he said, as he started to pull the door open.

 

"Wait," Felicity called out suddenly, and he turned back to face her. She hesitated for a minute and then crossed the room, coming to stand right in front of him. "Until tomorrow," she said softly. "But first..." And then she was pushing up on her toes, and her lips were pressing against his and his mind shut down for a second. But then she gave a little sigh and his brain powered back up and reminded him that he was _kissing Felicity._  

 

He slid one arm around her waist as the other tangled in her hair, simultaneously pulling her body flush against his while he tilted her head up so that he had better access to her mouth. He slid his tongue along her lower lip and when she gasped, he stroked it into her mouth. Kissing Felicity was everything he remembered it to be and more. It was so much more. She was warm and soft and responsive, gasping softly and moaning quietly as he explored her mouth with his. She tasted perfect, and she felt like home.

 

After an intense few minutes the kiss came to a natural end, and Oliver gently pecked her lips a couple of times before pulling away fully. She was flushed and breathing heavily, and he felt lightheaded. Felicity placed her fingers against her lips but didn’t say anything, and Oliver was struck by the thought that he had actually rendered Felicity Smoak speechless.

 

“Tomorrow,” Oliver said throatily, when he finally found his own voice. The word was full of promise and suggestion, and Felicity’s eyes darkened once more in response. But before he could let himself be pulled back in, he flashed her a quick smile and opened the door.

 

He was going to do this, and he was going to do it right, And unfortunately, that did _not_ include taking her up against her door.

 

But tomorrow...tomorrow was a different story.

 

***


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a turbulent summer full of ups, downs, and more honesty than they had ever expected, Oliver and Felicity are finally a couple. As the summer comes to a close and Oliver faces the challenge of trying to win back his family’s company, the pair have to learn to navigate these new waters. Neither one is exactly sure how it’s going to go, but they both know one thing. Whatever happens, they’ll face it - together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is later than I had hoped. Last week I was just not in the right frame of mind to write. But, if I hadn't posted chapter eight early, this is when the epilogue would have been posted! So in that respect I actually managed to stick to my every Wednesday posting schedule!
> 
> I can't believe this fic has come to an end. This was a huge undertaking and a major challenge for me. It was my first solo multi-chapter, and the first fic I ever posted that wasn't 100% complete before I started posting. Writing long fics is really difficult, and I have so much respect for those who do it over and over. I don't think it's for me. That's not to say I won't ever write one again, but I do think the foreseeable future will only be for drabbles and one-shots, which there will be lots of once season 4 starts, I'm sure!
> 
> I have to thank so many people. Every single person who has read, commented, liked, fav'd, rt'd, left kudos...etc etc. I also have to extend the most sincere and heartfelt thank you EVER to the most fabulous beta and friend, dettiot. Without her this never would have come to pass. And to callistawolf for reading and cheerleading so hard, her support has been incredible. And finally to machaswicket and youguysimserious, who supported me every step of the way.
> 
> A couple quick notes: the rating has been upped for this chapter, so take note. And warning: major tooth-rotting fluff ahead.
> 
> And here it is. The final part.

 

Felicity leaned against the rail of the deck, her glass of wine resting in front of her as she gazed out over the trees and the lake and the setting sun. A gentle breeze holding a slight chill signified that summer was, in fact, coming to a close. And as she thought back over everything that had happened since May, she couldn’t help but think that maybe it was a good thing. It was time. She was ready for a new season; a new chapter.

 

The past couple weeks, since that night when she had kissed Oliver in her apartment, after he had admitted that he loved her (and had loved her all along), after he had told her why he was scared...well, they had been amazing. Their first date had been everything she could have asked for and more. She had been expecting a fancy dinner at an expensive restaurant, but Oliver had surprised her with a picnic in the park, watching the sunset and drinking good wine out of plastic cups, as they talked and shared and learned even more about each other. It had been perfect.

 

They had been inseparable since then, with Roy making more than one snarky comment about not knowing what was worse - the pining and ‘heart eyes’ or the open affection they now shared. And boy was there affection. Oliver was touchy. Really, _really_ touchy. If they were in the same room, no more than a few minutes would go before him initiating some sort of physical contact. And it seemed he didn’t care who was watching. At first his open affection had embarrassed her a bit, but she found that she liked him touching her (and her touching him) more than she cared about being a little embarrassed.

 

She had also been a bit surprised by how easily Oliver had thrown himself into boyfriend-mode, though to be fair he was pretty much already acting like one before they had been officially together. But Felicity had expected to encounter at least some hesitance, some second-guessing from him, and she hadn’t. At all. He was really in this, 100% there with her. The only thing that he had been holding back was the one thing Felicity was determined to change this weekend.

 

She understood why he had delayed sleeping together. Why the heavy makeout sessions and, later, the demonstrations of the amazing talent he had with his fingers and his mouth, had ended with individual climaxes and/or cold showers rather than sweaty, naked, entangled limbs. They had talked about it, and Felicity knew it was more for him than her. He wasn’t trying to treat her like she was fragile; no, rather, he was trying to separate his relationship with her from those of his past. He wanted it to be about so much more than sex, and so they were waiting a bit.

 

But Felicity was done waiting. Who could blame her, when she was literally spending every night wrapped in the arms of a half naked, Greek god of a man? A man who was exceedingly talented with his hands and his mouth and his _everything._ He pretty much just had to breathe and she was turned on. And this weekend was the perfect time to finally, fully act on that feeling.

 

Oliver had, to everyone’s shock, announced to the team a few days ago that he and Felicity were taking Labor Day weekend off. Apparently, the Queen family owned a cabin near Lake Tahoe that was in his grandmother’s name and had no mortgage on it, so it therefore had survived the property and asset seizure. And Oliver wanted to take Felicity there for Labor Day weekend. She didn’t protest.

 

So, following a few hour drive where Oliver had agreeably allowed Felicity to control (and sing along to) the car stereo, they had arrived at the gorgeous “cabin” (really, it was a mansion in the woods) with an even more gorgeous view. And as she had settled into the ridiculous master bedroom - the _bathroom_ was the size of her bedroom at home - Oliver had started cooking. _Cooking. Oliver was cooking._

 

He hadn’t let her help, instead sending her off to explore the house and the surrounding area while he prepared everything. And prepare he did. She had come back to a full, three course meal, a gorgeously set table, candles….the whole nine yards. If it had been later in their relationship, she might have thought he was planning to propose. But since they had only been together, like, two weeks, and they _hadn’t even had sex yet for god’s sake_ , she was reasonably sure that wasn’t the plan.

 

The meal was delicious, revealing yet another surprising thing about Oliver. He had kitchen skills. Probably better kitchen skills than she had. And he hadn’t let her help clean up either, no matter how much she insisted. He had shooed her out onto the deck after topping up of her glass of wine. And that’s where she found herself now, gazing out over the absolutely idyllic lake and sunset, sipping at the perfect wine while her perfect boyfriend cleaned up from the perfect meal he had perfectly cooked. And everything was perfect.

 

(Of course everything wasn’t perfect. He was still Oliver and she was still Felicity and they were both still stubborn and always sure they were right and yes, they argued and fought sometimes. Between them they had enough baggage to fill a 747, and there was still plenty for them to work through **.** But they were together, and happy, and _that_ made it perfect.)

 

But they had both been holding back a bit. While Oliver had made the decision to wait to have sex, Felicity had also been holding something back.

 

He had made it very clear that he loved her, and he continued to make it clear, on a daily basis. With his actions, yes, but also with the actual words. He told her he loved her regularly, at least once a day, and every time he said it, he looked her in the eye and spoke sincerely and from the heart. She knew he loved her. And she knew she loved him. But...she hadn’t been able to say it back yet. Something in her was holding onto the words, almost like a last defense against him hurting her. Even though it was unfair - even though Oliver had been amazing and open and available - she was still holding onto it. Protecting herself.

 

But she was ready. She was ready to tell him. She _wanted_ to tell him. She had been holding onto the hurt and anger of the past for long enough, and she was ready for them to move forward and truly leave the past behind them. He had proven beyond any doubt that he was in this for the long run, and although neither of them could predict the future, she was confident in the knowledge that Oliver would never knowingly hurt her again.

 

So it was time. It was time to put her feelings into words, to give back to him what he had given, and kept giving, her.

 

As if on cue, the air around her shifted, telling her that Oliver had joined her on the deck.  Just seconds later, his hands slid alongside hers, resting on the railing, enclosing her in his arms. His chest pressed against her back as he leaned down to murmur in her ear.

 

“I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts, but I happen to know from experience that your thoughts are worth much, much more than that.”

 

Felicity hummed in response, turning in his arms so that she was facing him. She reached up and brushed her hand along his forehead affectionately, smiling back at him as he gazed down at her, a brightness in his eyes that she knew she would never get tired of seeing.

 

“Dinner was excellent,” she replied. “I’m very impressed, Mr. Queen,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, teasingly, at the end. She was rewarded when his eyes darkened and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes dropped to hers.

 

“Mmm,” he agreed, leaning in closer so that his lips were only millimeters from hers. “You haven’t even had dessert yet.” Felicity tilted her head up slightly, expecting him to capture her mouth with his own, but at the last second he changed course and laid a soft kiss on her neck instead.

 

She closed her eyes and sighed happily as Oliver trailed a series of light kisses up her neck and jaw, before finally pressing his lips against hers softly. When Felicity tried to deepen the kiss, though, he pulled back, resting their foreheads together.

 

“Oliver…” she whispered, not really quite sure what she was asking him, feeling dizzy with her love and happiness and arousal. She opened her eyes as he pulled away from her even more, maintaining their closeness but moving so that he could look her in the eye.

 

“What do you want, Felicity?” he asked, his voice low and rough. Now it was her turn to lick her lips, as her mind conjured up quite a few scenarios that could answer his question.

 

“Felicity…” he growled, whether in warning or impatience she couldn’t tell.

 

“You,” she answered softly. “I want you, Oliver.” She breathed in deeply as his eyes darkened even more and he swallowed hard. “I want all of you,” she finished, and before she could even blink he had captured her mouth once again, this time in a searing kiss.

 

And the last coherent thought Felicity had, as Oliver lifted her effortlessly and she wrapped her legs around his waist, was _finally._

 

****

 

Oliver still had trouble accepting that this was his life now.

 

As he maneuvered them along the deck, Felicity’s thighs squeezing his torso as she sucked kisses down his neck and ran her hands through his hair, he couldn’t help thinking that he was so damn lucky to be here with her.

 

Well, that, and _thank god_ the deck wrapped around the entirety of the house, and he had thought to leave the sliding door into the bedroom open, making it somewhat less complicated to get them to the bedroom than walking through the living room.

 

But then any and all thoughts that weren’t completely about Felicity - her mouth on his skin, her body pressed against his, her hands on his shoulders urging him impossibly closer - fled as she grinded against where he was already achingly hard. He’d been half hard for her for weeks, really. And he knew his reasons for waiting were good. They were valid and well-meaning and respectful and right now he really didn’t give a shit because he had never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted her.

 

He knew it was a bit silly to wait. They were so close and they knew each other so well, but he just needed this to be different - to be more meaningful. Felicity had been so patient with him, seeming to understand why he wanted to wait even before they talked about it, and now he just wanted the entire weekend to be perfect, to signal the start of a new stage in their relationship. He wanted it all with her, but he also knew that despite everything that made them different from a normal couple, they still needed to do things one step at a time.

 

But he was ready. God, he was ready. And if the teasing glances and lingering touches and the _very_ pleasurable rub of her foot against his calf during dinner were any indication, she was ready, too.

 

So Oliver carefully guided them through the doors that led to the bedroom, crossing the space to the bed before turning them so that he was sitting on the edge with her straddling his lap.

 

“That was some impressive footwork there,” she murmured against his lips, the laughter in her voice clear.

 

Oliver grinned, once again not fully believing it could be like this between them. So light and carefree; so easy and fun. His time with Felicity was filled with more laughter and fun than he could have ever expected.

 

“If you think _that_ was impressive,” Oliver replied, his voice low but teasing, “wait ‘til you see what else I have in store for you.”

 

And then without warning, he gripped her back with one hand, using the other to leverage them up and over so that she was lying on her back on the bed and he was hovering over her. Felicity squeaked and her eyes went wide in surprise, before they quickly darkened and she smirked at him.

 

“You have my attention, _Mr. Queen.”_

 

And that was it. The way she said _Mr. Queen,_ just like moments before on the deck, sent all his blood rushing straight to his groin. He groaned and lowered himself down to attack her neck with his lips and teeth. The time for teasing was over. He wanted all of her, everywhere, all over him. And he wanted it _now._

 

“Oliver,” Felicity moaned softly, and Oliver smiled against her neck as he continued his assault. “No, wait, Oliver,” she continued breathlessly, her hands coming to his chest and pushing lightly.

 

He stopped immediately, lifting his head to look down at her. He tried to read her face, but found to his frustration that he couldn’t, really. She looked...a bit nervous? She was biting her lip and her eyes were darting back and forth across his face.

 

“Hey, hey,” he said quietly, bringing a hand to cup her cheek. He felt a little relief when she nuzzled his palm, but he was still worried he had done something wrong. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did I…?” he trailed off, not able to put words to his question. Felicity’s eyes softened immediately and she started shaking her head.

 

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong,” she assured him. “I promise. I just...before we do...this,” she gestured between them with her hand, “there’s something I have to say.”

 

“Anything. You can tell me anything, Felicity. You know that,” he said quickly, hoping she could hear how much he meant it.

 

“I know. And I realize that...that for the past few weeks, you’ve said this like, a lot of times. And I haven’t said it at all. But I just...I needed to know you were really _here_ , you know? That you were gonna stay and do this and be _in this_ with me, you know?” she rambled, and Oliver couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Felicity, you don’t need to -”

 

“No, I do,” she interrupted. “I really, really do. Because I don’t want to keep it inside any more.” She took a deep breath and then gazed up at him, her eyes bright and shining with affection. Oliver felt his heart constrict almost painfully in his chest at the sight. “I love you, Oliver,” she said, clear and confident.

 

He had known it was coming. He knew she felt it, and he had understood why she hadn’t said it yet. But knowing it and hearing it were two different things, and Oliver was pretty sure his heart was going to explode - that’s how full it felt.

 

Putting every bit of himself into it, making sure that she could feel just how much he loved her, Oliver lowered his mouth to hers. He captured her bottom lip between his and sucked, eliciting a moan from her. Her fingers carded through his hair and she shifted beneath him, widening her legs so that he was cradled between them, and he could feel her heat even through the thin fabric of her dress and the denim of his jeans.

 

“Too many clothes,” she mumbled against his ear, as if reading his mind.

 

Quickly, because he didn’t want to not be touching her for any longer than was absolutely necessary, he shucked his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. He felt her hands fumbling with his button and zipper, and as her hand brushed his cock through his pants, he hissed in a breath. Not wasting any time, Oliver slid his hands under the hem of her dress and then guided it up her body. She lifted her shoulders off the bed and took her hands off his pants to let him pull the dress over her head. He tossed it in the direction of his shirt as she settled back on the mattress, her hands resuming their work.

 

She had gone braless that evening - something he had known from earlier when she had leaned forward and awarded him a clear view down her dress - and now she was lying before him, wearing only simple yellow cotton panties, looking like a sunny present he couldn’t wait to unwrap.

 

While he had been taking her in, Felicity had managed to get his jeans down over his hips, but he pushed her hands away and quickly shed them himself, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. He watched her look him up and down, her eyes lingering on his very obvious arousal as she bit her lip.

 

She reached for him again, her intent clear as her fingers landed on his hips, but he thwarted her by sliding down so that his legs were hanging over the bed and his face was hovering over her stomach. He alternated soft kisses with gentle nips along her skin, moving his mouth down slowly as his hands ran up her legs to her thighs, spreading her open even more for him. Her panties were damp and he could smell how turned on she was - that earthy, heady scent that was all her. He licked his lips as his fingers trailed over her thighs and hips, to hook into the band of her underwear.

 

Felicity was writhing and moaning softly above him, and he knew from experience that she was getting impatient, but he couldn’t help teasing her a while longer. He loved getting her to the point where all she could do was mutter incomprehensible things and his name, practically begging him to put his hands and mouth on her.

 

As he slowly - so slowly - slid her panties down her legs, she started chanting his name and arching her back, trying to press herself closer to his mouth. After discarding the soaking piece of fabric, he banded an arm across her hips to keep her still, before placing a feather light kiss right on her clit. Felicity sucked in a loud breath and her hands flew to his head, holding his face near her. He could tell she wanted to grind against him, but his hold on her was too tight.

 

He looked up at her quickly to find her gazing down at him with dark, hooded eyes. She moaned his name again, practically at the point of begging, and Oliver knew he had waited long enough. He grinned at her and then lowered his mouth back to her and licked a long stripe up her dripping sex.

 

“Yesssss,” Felicity cried, her fingers tightening in his hair, and Oliver felt himself grow even harder. He needed to make her come, and fast, or he wouldn’t last long enough to bury himself inside her. And he very, very much wanted to bury himself inside her.

 

Using all the knowledge of her that he had acquired over the past few weeks, Oliver worked her close to the edge in almost no time. He had two fingers inside her, curled up slightly as he thrusted quickly, while he alternated gently sucking on her clit with pressing the flat of his tongue against it.

 

“Ohh that’s it, Oliver, I’m so close, ohmygod ohmygod don’t stop pleeease,” Felicity babbled. He added another finger and sucked her clit in between his lips, a bit harder this time.  And Felicity moaned his name long and loud as she came apart under him, her juices coating his mouth. He continued working her through her orgasm, easing up on the pressure and pace as she fluttered and twitched in her pleasure.

 

Once she had calmed down, he crawled up her body, taking a second to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before settling on top of her. She lifted her knees to cradle him against her, and his cock twitched as it nestled right where he wanted to be.

 

“Hi,” she said quietly, smiling at him with glazed-over eyes.

 

“Hi,” he whispered back, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She groaned at the taste of herself on him, and he was just about ready to beg her to take him inside her when he felt her hands travel down his torso, tracing the ridges of his muscles before sliding under the waistband of his underwear.

 

“These need to be off, right now,” she murmured against his mouth, at the same time as she slid her hands down, taking his boxer briefs with her. He reached behind him with one hand to help her, kicking them free as she trailed her hands back up his thighs. When she grasped his erection in her small hand, he made a sound in his throat that was a mix of a groan, a growl and a moan. She grinned wickedly before starting to pump him, using her other hand to roll his balls lightly. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder, and when he moaned her name, it came out strangled and desperate, even to his own ears.

 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed her wrist to still her movements, leveraging himself up a bit to look down at her.

 

“Felicity, please. I need to be inside you...please,” he begged, not caring at all that he was literally putty in her hands.

 

She nodded and shifted again, positioning the tip of his cock right at her entrance. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was so, so grateful that they had already had a discussion about birth control (IUD, and they were both clean) a while back, leaving nothing between them.

 

He paused for a second, wanting to fully appreciate the enormity of this moment. Locking eyes with her, he could see she was doing the same. With one last soft kiss to his lips, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling his entire body against hers, and as she did he slid into her, making them both moan.

 

Oliver closed his eyes, bracing himself against how good and right and perfect it felt. She was wet and hot and tight, and he knew this wasn’t going to be a marathon, but he would make it up to her later. For a minute he just stayed buried inside her, unmoving, letting her get used to the feel of him. But then she arched up into him and any semblance of control he thought he had snapped, and he pulled almost all the way out of her before thrusting back in again.

 

“Ohhh, yess, like that. Harder, Oliver,” Felicity groaned, and damn him if it wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world.

 

He moved one hand from where it was gripping her hip, taking hold of her knee and bending her leg up and open to the side, allowing him to get deeper with each thrust. Felicity matched his rhythm, moving completely in sync with him as her hands moved down his body to grip his ass.

 

“Felicity,” he grunted, as he slid his other hand between them to start rubbing rough circles against her clit, “I’m not gonna last much longer. Feels too good. I need you to come for me.”

 

She nodded, her sweat-slicked forehead brushing his shoulder, and after a couple more thrusts she started clenching tighter around him, signalling the start of her orgasm. Oliver started thrusting faster and harder, pushing down on her clit, and it only took a few more seconds to send them both flying.  The tension at the base of Oliver’s spine exploded into a haze of pleasure as Felicity cried out, a jumble of his name and I love you and other indecipherable things.

 

When he came back to himself a couple of minutes later, he was collapsed on top of her, their legs tangled, as she drew soft circles on his back and placed soft kisses against his jaw. He moved to pull out of her, but her arms tightened around him.

 

“No, not yet,” she mumbled tiredly. “I like you here, just stay here for a bit, ‘k?”

 

He nodded in response, kissing her neck gently and running his hands along her sides. They stayed like that for a while, but soon he felt Felicity start to drift off. Carefully, he pulled out and off of her, padding quickly to the bathroom and wetting a cloth with warm water. He went back to find her half asleep, curled on her side and hugging the pillow. He cleaned them both off the best he could before sliding in behind her, pulling the duvet from the end of the bed over them.

 

Lying there, with a naked and satiated Felicity wrapped in his arms as she drifted in and out of sleep, placing the occasional kiss on his arm or murmuring a quiet ‘love you’, he thought about how different his life was now from a mere few months ago. He didn’t know what was coming the next day or the day after that: whether he would get QC back or when the next threat to Starling would challenge his ability to be both the Arrow and Oliver Queen. But he knew that he had Felicity, by his side, holding his hand, taking every step with him. And so he knew that no matter what they faced, they would and _could_ handle it.

 

Together.

 

****

 

           


End file.
